


Murder House

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, That Cursed House post that floats around, TripleAgent!Rumlow, real estate horror stories, what you never see on HGTV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy and the new security guy go house hunting.itsjaili asked for:After seeing that cursed house/shed/bathroom post, now I want to see Darcy and Brock in some kind of spooky scenario! I can see Darcy being creeped out but making light of it while Brock is seriously considering looking up the former owners and checking to see if there's some kind of creepy cult out there he didn't know about it.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow, Jane Foster/Thor
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 396
Kudos: 670





	1. It's Retro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jaili](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaili/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“This is it?” Brock Rumlow said, when they’d pulled up in the driveway behind the rental agent. “You and Foster wanna live in  _ this  _ neighborhood?” he said. He was grimacing. He did that a lot.

“What you don’t think the aluminum foil over the neighbors’ garage windows is stylin’?” Darcy said, opening the car door. “Besides, Jane wants a yard for Thor,” she added. She looked at the house. “This one needs mowing, though,” she said, more to herself. The weeds were calf-high. The house they were looking at renting was an older ranch house. A little run down, sure, but it was as close as they could get to SHIELD’s new headquarters. As long as the wiring and the air-conditioning was okay, she could hack it. Probably. Jane was on a Saturday brunch date with Thor, but she’d pre-approved Darcy’s list. Jane decided their max budget, too. Darcy’s say in the budget was limited right now--but she had a strategy if this place wasn’t right. Next to her, Rumlow sighed. “What?” Darcy said, looking at him. Rumlow was their new security guy, at least temporarily. “Is it really a meth house if you see aluminum foil over the windows?” she asked. 

“Fuck, Lewis, I have no idea, but I wouldn’t store my clothes in this place,” he said.

“Well, sure. It would be weird to walk around naked in your house, if your clothes lived with me and Jane,” she said breezily. Then she hopped out of the car. Behind her, he swore. 

They went in after the agent, who was really being quite nice for someone whose disappointment at the sight of Darcy’s budget figures was understandable. It was difficult to find a place near DC on any budget that Jane would agree to. Jane was still suffering from the long term effects of poverty. Darcy’s plan was to take photos of this place, then convince Jane that it was more sensible to rent an apartment that didn’t need repairs until she could either convince Jane to up the budget or figure out exactly where was safest. But you needed to know a town to figure that out. 

The agent--her name was Renee--let them in. “All the features are original!” she said. “You said you liked midcentury modern, right?” The living room had aged wood paneling. And there were pine cabinets in the kitchen. She was ignoring the brown shag carpet under her feet. Rumlow wasn’t. She caught him grimacing at his toes.

“I do,” Darcy said. “Oooh, knotty pine cabinets in the kitchen. I do love knotty pine,” she said, walking over. “And gold speckle laminate!”

“Christ,” Rumlow muttered. “This was old when I was born.” That made Darcy laugh. 

“It’s not so bad,” she told him. “I bet I can get some Murphy’s oil soap and really clean these cabinets and the wood paneling. Maybe work on some those scratches. It can be pretty.” He looked at her, opened a kitchen cabinet, and raised an eyebrow.

“Fucking look at that, that’s forty years of disgusting grime,” he said.

“Oh,” Darcy said. It did look pretty ratty in the cabinets. There were...splotches. She went to the oven---and unfolded the doors out. Even she recoiled at the uncleaned, rusty racks.

“What the fuck?” Rumlow said.

“It’s an original oven,” Renee said brightly. “The doors used to fold out like that.”

“Just like on  _ Bewitched,”  _ Darcy said. She snapped a few photos for Jane. 

The kitchen was the high point. Although Darcy could appreciate the original tilework in the hall bathroom, the yellow shower’s grout was decidedly….grimy. “It’ll take some cleaning to the get that black out,” she said, trying to sound casual, when Rumlow made an inchoate noise. She’d be the one doing it, of course. Jane wasn’t good at that sort of thing. She mixed products dangerously---Eric had almost passed out once. Darcy sighed.

“You know everything in here is asbestos and lead, right?” he said. They went down the hallway--there was peeling paint hanging low enough to brush her shoulder---to the bedrooms. “Look, Lewis, Army green shag carpet,” Rumlow said. “It’s retro!” He was mimicking the real estate agent. 

“Shhh,” she said. “Renee will hear you!” He shook his head. 

“Is the dirt retro, too?” he said. He was looking at the carpet stains.

“I hope that’s dirt. It’s not blood, right?” she asked him. He looked at her and smirked. 

“I dunno, I never made anybody bleed four decades ago, sweetheart, I don’t have shag carpet knowledge,” he said. “Let’s see if these fucking windows actually open.” A few moments later, Darcy heard Renee’s heels on the kitchen floor.

“I’ve got the door to the garage open,” she called to them. “It was just stuck.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” he said, glaring at a still-stuck window. “It's nailed shut. This place is a firetrap.”

“Thor can put Mew-Mew through a wall in an emergency,” she said.

“If he’s here,” Rumlow said, “when Foster accidentally leaves a readout on the stovetop.”

“Did she tell you that story?” Darcy said, gaping at him. They’d only known each other for a week.

“No--for fuck’s sake, I was joking,” he said. “C’mon, let’s see the murder garage.” She followed him back down the hall. The garage was on the other side of the kitchen He pushed the garage door open slowly. “Watch out,” Rumlow said. They had to go down a few steep steps. A lightbulb dangled from a cord above them. The garage was full of things: a duct-taped freezer. Shelves full of odds and ends. Damp-looking cardboard boxes. There was something she hoped was an oil stain on the concrete floor. It crunched slightly under her feet from the film of sandyish dirt. 

“Uh-huh. This place is cursed,” Darcy joked. It did look like somewhere you’d be murdered.

“No,” Rumlow said. His tone was blunt.

“No?” she said.

“You are not living here,” he said.

“We can’t stay in the hotel,” Darcy said. “Jane will have a cow when she sees Thor’s minibar bill. He had cashews yesterday! Do you know how much cashews cost?” Rumlow looked at her, expression confused, then rubbed his forehead, as if he had a headache. 

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Seriously, this might be my only option within Jane’s budget. I can’t argue with her without data--”

“Get in the car,” Rumlow said, as they went back inside the house to leave. The garage door had been padlocked shut, too. “Renee, thank you, but this isn’t the house for them,” he told the agent, then hustled Darcy out. “She’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Renee said, evidently disappointed.

“Why are you herding me?” Darcy said, as they walked down the front steps. “Did you just fire my agent?”

“We’ll figure something out,” he told her, as they got in the car.

“Like what?” Darcy said.

“You--you can stay with me,” Rumlow said. 

“What?” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the kitchen stuff is based on an older house I looked at once. the oven had double doors that opened out like a closet and then the racks sort of sprung out at you? it was wild.


	2. Murder House #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Oh, no,” Lewis said, when he let her into his condo. They’d brought all the luggage from the hotel. Foster and Thor were somewhere. Lewis seemed confident that they’d show up eventually. She’d texted Jane. Now she was looking around his place, surrounded by rolling suitcases, an assortment of Asgardian weaponry, and an actual fucking whiteboard on wheels. “Oh, no,” she repeated.

“What?” he said, not following. It was a nice condo. He’d negotiated a finder’s fee when he was stealing things back from HYDRA as Crossbones. Financially, he was okay--maybe better than okay now. He hadn’t expected Lewis’s reaction. Most people were impressed. His living room had an entire wall of windows and shit. The building had a doorman. 

“Your place is nice. It looks like an _Architectural Digest_ article!” she said. “And it’s clean. It’s so clean.”

“Yeah?” he said, confused.

“I apologize in advance for the spills,” she told him. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm sure it will be fine,” he reassured her. “I've got a guest bedroom for them and you can take the couch, okay?” Brock said. It was a two bedroom condo. He took her into the guest bedroom. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking out a pink plastic binder. It had stickers on it. She consulted the binder.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“My packing notes,” she said. “I have a system, so I can find Jane’s stuff. And repack everything.” He realized she was looking at lists that identified which suitcase contained which item, so she could get them quickly. She kept apologizing as she unpacked. It perplexed him. How bad could it be? 

He figured it out when Thor landed with a thud on his balcony and shook his hand cheerfully. He watched, stunned as Foster wandered through his house, shedding paperwork, pens, elastic hair ties, and crumbs from a protein bar. Thor stomped in with muddy feet, then apologized. “Sorry,” Darcy mouthed. Then she scrambled around straightening up after them. He gathered that this was their normal routine, because Lewis did it reflexively and Foster was constantly asking Lewis where she’d put things. 

“Where did I put those Plitzen articles?” she’d say.

“In the blue folder,” Lewis would remind her. Only it was Lewis who’d put things in the blue folder. And who did everyone’s laundry. And tried to catch all the hair ties as Foster lost them. Lewis who wrote out the grocery lists. And did the cooking. Lewis who put everyone’s dishes in the dishwasher and ran it. 

Which was all fine, he guessed.

Less fine? 

Foster and Thor’s loud sex noises the first night. Rumlow tried to sleep through it. But they were noisy. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself, as they escalated. _Thunk. Thunk._ “He better not break my damn bed.” He heard a soft knock at his door.

“Brock?” Darcy called.

“Be right there,” he called back, irritated, as he got out of bed. He moved over to the door and opened it. Lewis was standing there in her pajamas. She seemed to hesitate. He didn’t have a shirt on. He tried not to grin when her eyes went wide. 

“Um, I forgot to give you these,” she said, holding something out. “They’re professional grade.”

“Earplugs,” he said, starting to laugh.

“I have a bunch,” she told him, grinning. “Like, twelve pairs.”

“The couch okay?” he asked, taking them from her gently.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” she said. “Very comfy. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have to hear that,” she added. There was a moment of awkwardness. “I really appreciate--” she began.

“Lewis,” he said, feeling oddly frustrated, “stop apologizing to me.”

“Okay,” she said. “Goodnight, then.” He shut the door, blinking to himself, and put in the earplugs. She was right. They worked.

The first several days were a fucking adjustment: the noise and disruption of living with three people gave him headaches and made him generally irritable. So, he went to the gym more. He came home late from a boxing session on Tuesday to find Foster working on his dining room table, scribbling on her mad whiteboard and Thor watching television on his couch. “Hello!” Thor boomed cheerfully. 

“Hey,” Rumlow said. Where was Lewis? He really needed to talk to her about the apartment hunt, see where they were. He knew she was looking at listings, because he’d heard her trying to convince Foster to raise their budget and she ran neighborhoods by him several times a day to get his opinion on safety. He found her in the hallway.

“What are you doing?” he said, when he spotted Lewis folding pants in front of the laundry closet. She was in her pajamas and puppy slippers. He frowned.

“I’m terrible at folding, sorry,” she said. “How do you do these?”

“No, I mean, those are my pants,” he said.

“Oh, yeah, I washed your stuff in the limited ingredients detergent, in case they needed to be unscented,” she said.

“Unscented?” he said.

“For field work?” she said. “These are tactical pants, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning slowly. “So you used the unscented detergent? So nobody would smell me coming?”

“That’s what hunters do!” she said, blushing. 

“Sure, Lewis,” he said wryly. “Thanks for making me safe from Bambi’s ambush.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled. 

“I’ll take over this,” he told her. “Go sit down.”

“And I got you those things on your grocery list,” she told him, as she shuffled towards the living room. 

“Tell me how much you spent,” he said.

“It wasn’t much, don’t worry about it,” she said. _Damn,_ he thought. He couldn’t ask her about when they were moving out when she’d done his laundry and bought him groceries. It would be fucking rude. He sighed--and folded his unscented shirts, feeling torn.

That night, he had a bout of insomnia. It happened sometimes. He got up to get water and realized Lewis was still awake on the couch, reading. She read cookbooks, he’d noticed. Things about food. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she said, putting her book down.

“Water,” he explained, flashing her the water bottle. She nodded. 

“Goodnight,” she told him, as he got to his bedroom door.

“Can you sleep?” he said. She hesitated. “You wanna watch a movie with me in here?” he offered. “I have trouble sleeping when I’ve been on a long assignment in a different time zone.” He waved her over and she got up. “You can pick the movie,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, smiling, as he stepped aside to let her in his bedroom. “You did that big undercover thing in Germany, right?” she said. “And that’s why you’re staying with us?”

“It’s classified,” he said. “But, yeah, when you do long field missions, they put in a requirement that you do a few weeks of quieter work.”

“Oh,” she said, looking around.

“What?” he said, flopping down on the bed.

“You’ve got a nice bedroom,” she said. “I mean, the windows and everything.”

“Yeah, it beats the couch,” he joked. “Plenty of room. What movie do you want to watch?” he asked, as she climbed in bed with him. 

“Something fun,” she said. He felt relieved that her idea of something fun matched his, roughly. She mocked an action movie with him and listened to his funny stories about mission accidents until they both fell asleep. 

When he woke up in the morning, they were curled around each other. His knees were tucked up against her thighs. “Shit,” he said, realizing he’d even put his arm under her. He didn’t know how to turn off his alarm without waking her up. He tried to move, realized his arm was asleep, and swore again.

“Mmm,” she said, wheezing and snuggling in closer.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He extracted himself with difficulty. He’d hopped in the shower--it helped him wake up when he hadn’t gotten the sleep he needed--and come back out to get dressed.

“Brock?” Darcy said sleepily. He almost dropped the towel around his waist in surprise. He’d thought she was asleep.

“Yeah?” he said, turning from his open closet. _Is she gonna freak out,_ he wondered, leaning back around the closet door to look at her. _Can she even see me?_ It was still dark this early in the morning. Her eyes were barely open.

“Will you go with me to look at a place this afternoon?” she said, voice groggy.

“Yeah,” he said, relaxing. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said. “Your bed’s comfy,” she sighed out. He chuckled. When he’d returned from dressing in the bathroom, he realized she had fallen asleep again. She was snoring. Lewis looked wild: face puffy and creased with pillow marks, hair rumpled and in her face, a bit of drool on her cheek. He grinned and brushed the hair away from her mouth and nose.

* * *

“No,” Brock said, following Renee out of one apartment. “Bad security.” Darcy sighed. They’d barely gotten through the door before he vetoed this option.

“I have somewhere else?” Renee offered.

“Yes,” she replied quickly, before Brock could preemptively decide it was a bad area. “Write down the address for me?” she asked. He was drumming on the steering wheel when she got in the car. “Everything okay?” she asked Brock.

“Yeah,” he said. But he was grimacing again. Darcy felt bad that she hadn’t been able to move Jane on the budget much. Not bad--guilty. They should’ve stayed at the hotel, she thought grimly, as she punched the next address into the GPS in the car. They were driving him crazy. 

“I’m sorry about the budget, I’ll keep working on Jane,” she said. She’d need to text Jane that this was ridiculous, that they were inconveniencing him. She’d seen his face when Thor put his big ol’ feet on Rumlow’s fancy coffee table and got popcorn in his leather couch cushions.

“That’s not your fault,” he said, voice odd. “Where’s this thing taking us?” He gestured towards the GPS screen.

“Columbia Heights?” Darcy said tentatively. He frowned slightly. “Is that not good? I read it was up and coming,” she said.

“Could be good, could be not, it depends,” Brock said. Darcy could see Renee’s taillights going red in the stopped traffic.

“Can I make you something?” she offered. 

“Hmm?” 

“Brownies, cupcakes, dinner tonight--” she began. At his look, she explained. “We’re taking advantage of you.”

“I offered, didn’t I? If I wanted you gone, I’d tell you,” Rumlow told her, voice sharp. “You don’t have to cook for me or do my damn laundry.” He lapsed into silence. 

He definitely wanted her gone, Darcy thought. She was still thinking about it as they toured the next apartment in a newly renovated building. “This could work,” she said. “There’s a park a block away.”

“It’s a one bedroom,” Rumlow said. 

“I can put a sleeper sofa out here in the living room,” Darcy said. 

“You’d be totally visible through those windows,” Rumlow said, rolling his neck in a weird way. “No privacy.”

“I’d put curtains up,” Darcy said.

“Mmm-hmm,” he said flatly.

“You don’t even have bedroom curtains,” Darcy said, perplexed. “Besides, I gotta work on Jane or this is the top of the budget. I don’t have a nice two bedroom place budget--yet.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” he said, in a way that startled her. She flinched. He was looking out the living room window. “This isn’t even a good part of this neighborhood.” 

“I’ve got another place!” Renee chirped.

“Okay,” Darcy said. They left. She looked guiltily between Brock and Renee. Maybe Renee would let Darcy make her brownies?

“It’s two bedroom,” the agent said, letting them into a renovated warehouse.

“Oh, this is--” Darcy began, intending to say _nice._ It had an open floorplan.

“Two people were murdered here last year,” Rumlow said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Uhhh,” Renee said.

“In September,” he said, flashing his phone screen. “Unsolved. Probably drug-related.” His voice was clipped. He vetoed it, leaving Darcy and Renee staring at each other as he walked out.

“Your boyfriend is very overprotective,” Renee said, sounding slightly sad.

“He’s not--” Darcy began, but Brock stuck his head back in the loft. 

“Let’s go,” he said. "It's a literal murder house this time."

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The binder/suitcase detail is something I borrowed from a bio of Audrey Hepburn. She and her first husband, Mel Ferrer (allegedly a bit of a difficult type) would would travel for movies for long periods and she itemized everything so she could find the trunk with, say, his favorite tie at a moment's notice. That woman was a literal saint.


	3. Hostage Situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

It was the end of the day on Thursday, but Brock was getting in another workout before he went home. Thor had taken Foster and Lewis back to his place via hammer. He hit a button on the treadmill repeatedly and ramped up the incline. The machine rose beneath his feet with a hum, then the belt started. The steeper angle wasn’t even a challenge, he thought as he ran, but more of a distraction. They’d looked at five places this week. None of them were right. Also, he’d heard Lewis and Foster having a whispered argument in the kitchen last night. Lewis had pressed her about the budget and Foster had insisted they keep looking instead. His feet thudded heavily. “How are you holding up, mate?” a voice asked him. It was Jack, hopping on the treadmill next to his. Jack smiled. His teeth were white against his tan. It was vaguely irritating that Jack looked so well-rested after a visit to his parents’ house in Australia.

“Yeah?” Brock said grimly.

“All your roommates?” Jack said. “I come back and you’ve got Thor and two girls living with ya?”

“So?” Rumlow asked, stubbornly refusing to slow down.

“You’ve never lived with anybody,” Jack said gleefully. “And one of ‘em could kill you and they’re all VIPs.”

“I’m fine,” Brock said. “It’s all fine.” He felt oddly touchy. It wasn’t his problem that Thor and Foster were, uh, difficult to live with. And messy. That they left things everywhere. He turned down the incline, so he could look at Jack and spoke again. “I mean, Foster and Thor having loud sex kept me awake at the beginning, but Lewis brought me earplugs. Tactical grade,” he explained.

“And you’re not bothered by the mess?” Jack said. He was almost gloating.

“It’s not the easiest thing,” he said slowly, “but I’m adjusting.”

“Sure, mate,” Jack said.

“I can deal with this. Temporarily,” Rumlow said slowly. He sighed and increased his pace again. At the edges of his vision, he saw Jack grinning. “Shut the fuck up,” he said. Jack laughed.

“It’s really too bad that new SHIELD apartment unit is a one bedroom,” the Australian said. “The one Hill vacated when she moved in with Carter?”

“Yeah,” Brock said flatly.

When he walked into his apartment, there was music playing. “Hey,” Darcy said. She was in his kitchen apron, holding a spoon. The table had been set. There were olives, cheese, bread, even little fucking candles. What was going on? 

“Uh, hey. I met Thor and Jane on my way in,” he said, pausing and looking between her and the table. “Who’s that singing?”

“I sent them out for night. That’s Rupa and the April Fishes,” she said. “The lead singer is actually a doctor. That’s her day job. I really like their cover of “Guns of Brixton” and I don’t understand why they’re not more famous--”

“Sure,” he said. There were two pots on the stove. The oven was on. It smelled wonderful. She caught his eye, smiling.

“Are you wondering what I’m doing?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” he said, knowing exactly what she was up to. _Damn it._ She was attempting to apologize to him. Again.

“I’m cooking dinner for you,” she said, “because I feel bad that we’ve crashed in your house. Don’t make those sounds,” she added, when he made a disgruntled noise.

“Lewis,” he scolded.

“Stop being such a scold,” she said.

“I don’t want you to bother--”

“Technically, you’re expanding my skills,” she said. “And these could be awful. I bake desserts more than I cook actual food, but you’re annoyingly sugar resistant--I see that smile.” 

“What smile?” he countered, reschooling his expression.

“Phfft. So, I’m experimenting here. Roasting chicken breasts and making pumpkin ravioli, so you’d actually be helping me learn to do something,” she bargained, waving the spoon. 

“You committed yourself to ravioli _and_ chicken?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Well, actually, I cheated and used premade lasagna sheets for the ravioli and canned pumpkin as the filling base,” she said hurriedly, as if this was a secret. “I really don’t cook all that many fancy things.” He sighed dramatically. This woman. She was determined to treat him just like Jane and Thor, he thought. Baby him. He wasn’t a child, he thought. He must’ve grimaced, because she made a face and waved her spoon threateningly. “Sit down and eat the bread. I bought the bread. If you eat bread,” she ordered. He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Her vexed expression was almost charming.

“Do I get wine?” he said.

“Oh,” she said, looking for somewhere to put the spoon. “Yes. It’s in the frid--”

“I’ll get it,” he said quickly, springing to his feet.

“How do you have so much energy?” she wondered aloud. 

“Must be genetic,” he said casually. He didn’t want to talk about the serums. “You sprung for prosecco, huh?”

“I’m trying to be nice to you,” she said dryly, stirring something. He peered over her shoulder as he sat the bottle down on the counter. “This is a sage butter sauce,” she told him. 

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Nice.” 

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She smiled at the wine bottle and doodled a smile into the condensation. 

“At least let me help you,” Brock said, sighing. 

It was a good dinner, he had to admit. Brock felt relaxed. It could be the relative quiet of the apartment, or the music or the wine, but he felt like the constant tension had ebbed out of his shoulders. Lewis was funny--and she did great impressions of people. He was treated to a Fury glare and several impressions of politicians and celebrities. And the food was excellent. “Not bad for a first attempt at ravioli,” he told her, grinning. “You’re going to wreck my gym work.” 

“You feel okay about the level of nutmeg in the filling?” she asked, looking critically from him to the butter-drizzled ravioli in her plate. 

“Yes,” Brock said, grinning. “Are you always such a perfectionist?” he asked her. In response, Darcy crinkled her nose.

“Oh, no,” she sighed out. “I’m obsessing, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he said.

“I do that sometimes, I tend to...fixate,” she said. 

“Harder on yourself than anybody else, huh?” he said. She smiled.

“Not always, but I can’t help it with recipes, you know?” Darcy said. “If I’m taking the time to cook, I want it to be really, really good.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“Otherwise, I could just eat popcorn and Pop Tarts,” she said. 

“I think there’s some in the couch?” he offered. “I could run and get some--?”

“Oh God,” she said, putting her hands over her eyes, “I’m sorry my large adult children are so messy in your clean house.” He laughed. “I try to--”

“You follow them around like the quintessential mom,” he teased her. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“If I didn’t, they would both be such messes, though,” Darcy said. “This is actually good, for them. He used to throw mugs!”

“You like having them around, don’t you?” he said. She shrugged, blushing.

“I do like taking care of them. Most of the time,” she admitted. 

“You never want a break?” he said. “Time to yourself out of the lab? Your own place?”

“Well, yeah, sure, but we’ve never been able to afford it,” Darcy said, shrugging. He looked at her. Tilted his head. “What?” Darcy said. 

“I’m thinking,” Brock told her, then reached for his cellphone. “Let a man think, Lewis.”

* * *

“Wait, what are we doing?” Jane said, gobsmacked. She looked from Darcy to Brock to Thor. Thor gave her a careful, but slightly concerned smile. They’d come back to Rumlow’s place to find Darcy packing. Now they were surrounded by suitcases. Jane was slightly stunned by Rumlow’s announcement.

“You and Thor are moving into the available one bedroom in a SHIELD-owned, secure complex,” Brock said. “And Darcy can stay in my guest room. So, everyone has security and a safe building. And Darcy doesn’t have to sleep on a couch,” he told Jane. “Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “But I’ll miss you!”

“But we’ll see each other at work,” Darcy said. “And this is only temporary.”

“We will all be together soon,” Thor said. “Do not worry, Jane.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect former crime scene house soon,” Brock said, smirking. Darcy laughed. 

“C’mon, you’re all packed up,” she said, “who’s getting the whiteboard?”

“I shall,” Thor said.

Jane managed to grab Darcy as they brought in the suitcases to the new apartment. “Are you comfortable with this? Living alone with him?”

“I’ve been crashing on his couch,” Darcy said. 

“But that’s different from being alone with a guy,” Jane said slowly. “And he did invite you to sleep in his bed…”

“Um, yeah, we watched a Jason Statham movie and heckled it,” Darcy said. “He’s a real hound dog.” She snorted. “As if. If you’d seen his abs, they’re incredible. He doesn’t want to squeeze all up on me. C’mon,” she said, grinning. “I wouldn’t even _dare to dream.”_

“So, why’s he trying to get you alone?” Jane said, feeling stubborn. She jutted her chin out. Darcy made a face. “Ah ha!” Jane said, pointing. “My point exactly!”

“Jane, Janey, Janeybug,” Darcy said, voice teasing, “he’s not getting me alone. He’s getting rid of you and Thor and your loud sex noises.” She giggled.

“Oh,” Jane said, deflating somewhat.

“He’s probably worried about his guest bed--” Darcy was saying, when Rumlow came in carrying two bags.

“Where you want these?” he said. 

“Uh, bedroom,” Jane said, blushing. When he was out of earshot. “Were we loud?” she said to Darcy.

“Uh, yeah,” Darcy said. “I gave him the earplugs, but you forget you’re like lions at the zoo. Rawr--” she mocked.

“No,” Jane said.

“Yes,” Darcy said, nodding. “Much yes.”

“Shhh!” Jane said, as Rumlow returned. 

* * *

It had all happened so quickly, Darcy thought, as they got in Rumlow’s car. One minute, she’d been confessing to Rumlow that, yes, it would be nice to have her own place someday and now….

She looked at Rumlow. He looked relaxed as he buckled his seat belt. “What about my rent, roomie?” she said, scrunching her nose. She hadn’t thought about that. There hadn’t been time. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, adjusting the rear view mirror. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine?” Darcy said, not following.

“I can live with you and your world music,” he said. “You’re fine.”

It was distinctly odd to return to an apartment without Jane and Thor. She paused in the middle of the apartment, thinking. “You all right?” Rumlow said to her, dropping his keys on a hook by the door. “Missing your large adult children already?” He grinned.

“I have lived with that tiny, whiteboard addicted woman for, like, a decade now!” Darcy said. “Don’t mock me, this is weird. Where is the clutter? Where are the napkins with important things scribbled on them? What am I supposed to do now?” she said.

“Enjoy being an empty nester,” he said, stripping off his jacket. “Most people have to be my age to get there, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She made to go to the guest bedroom to unpack.

“Lewis?” he called.

“Hmm?”

“Clean sheets in the closet,” he said, smirking at her. 

“Why did you do this anyway?” she wondered aloud, leaning against the doorframe. She expected him to make a joke, but he paused. His expression was sly.

“I never saw a hostage I didn’t want to save,” he said dryly.

“Rude!” Darcy said. 


	4. This Feels Like A Vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“How is it going?” Jane asked Darcy, almost whispering. They were at work. Brock was standing out in the hall, talking to Thor about fighting styles. 

“It’s going well,” Darcy said, looking up from her laptop. “Really well.” She didn’t want to admit to Jane that it was nice that Rumlow had--somehow--managed to get Jane to start closing the lab earlier this week, too. For the first time in ages, Darcy had regular working hours. That meant that her evenings were weirdly open. She felt like she had oodles of time. Blissfully free time. She’d read three whole books, done a yoga DVD, and taken a long soak in his very nice bathtub. She felt a smidge guilty that it felt like being on vacation. 

“You look okay,” Jane said. “Will you write down the recipe for those eggs that Thor likes? He asked me what to do last night and I had no idea.”

“He’s cooking?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” Jane said. “His steak’s not bad, but he over did the eggs.”

“Awwww,” Darcy said. “Look at my babies, all grown up!”

“I have a PhD,” Jane said. She paused. “But how do you do the eggs?”

“Low and slow,” Darcy said. “Eggs are low and slow.”

“Low and slow,” Jane repeated, taking notes. “And thank you for giving me that itemized list for the suitcases.”

“No problemo, babycakes,” Darcy said. She’d made Jane a copy of her binder. “Everything’s good,” she said. A guilty part of her brain reflected that she wouldn’t necessarily mind staying with Rumlow for longer--provided he wasn’t put off by her presence. She should make dinner every night, Darcy thought. That seemed to relax him. 

* * *

Darcy was stirring broccoli in a wok that night when Rumlow’s landline rang. She thought it might be Jane calling; she’d phoned Darcy once about the kind of pizza she usually bought them. It was funny. “What’s up, buttercup? You got parmesan problems?” Darcy said without preamble. 

“Hello?” a strange female voice said. “Can I speak to Brock?”

“Oh, sorry,” Darcy said. “I thought you were my friend, can I take a message for you? He’s in the shower.” Brock had just gotten back from the gym.

“This is his mother,” the woman said, sounding surprised. 

“Oh, great,” Darcy said. “Hi, Brock’s mom! I’m Darcy. I’m sort of his temporary roommate at the moment? I’ll get him.” She turned down the stovetop, then crossed the room and walked into his bedroom. “Brock?” she called into the bathroom. “Your mom is on the phone!”

“You’re staying with Brock?” his mother said in Darcy’s ear as a very wet, half-naked Brock stuck his head out of the bathroom.

“Yes,” Darcy said. 

“What?” he said, in a horrified tone. 

“It’s your mom,” she repeated. “He’s coming,” she told the woman on the line as Brock stalked over, frowning and wrapped in a towel. If he didn’t look so pissed, it would have been yummy. He was in incredible shape. Darcy let herself admire his body for a sec. Droplets of water slid down his torso and landed on the carpet.  _ Oh,  _ she thought.  _ That is impressive. _

“Thank you,” he said, looking distinctly unthankful.

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen,” Darcy told him. He grimaced at her and waved dismissively, turning around.

“Ma,” he began. With a last look at his back--it was a good back--Darcy hurried out of the room. She’d totally burn the food if she kept being distracted by all his handsomeness. 

“You told my mother that you were living with me?” Brock said, appearing in the kitchen a few minutes later.

“I think I said temp roomie, very casual,” Darcy said. “Stir fry?” She waved her spoon.

“I’m not happy with you right now,” Brock said. “My mother wants to visit me. Because you answered the phone, she knows I’m in town, Lewis.”  _ Whoops,  _ Darcy thought.

“I would apologize, but you hate that,” Darcy said.

“I do,” he said. She waited for him to say something else. He tilted his head. “Stir fry smells good,” he said, surprising her.

“I bet you love your mother,” Darcy said, grinning. 

“She makes me go to church,” he grumbled. “I know she’s planning on it, her flight’s Saturday.”

“What if I, like, steal your mom, so you don’t have to go to church? I love moms,” Darcy said.

“You love moms?” he asked. 

“Sure. Because I’m essentially a mom who watches PBS and likes Pinot Grigio already. I can go with your mom to a museum! Or a wine tasting?” she offered.

“A wine tasting?” Brock said, eyebrows going up.

“What about a really swanky restaurant that serves mahi mahi? Jane never wants to do that stuff with me, she has a phobia of spending money,” she said. “Does your mom like fancy restaurants?” She reached for the ginger and soy sauce.

“Sure,” Brock said, frowning. “Are you putting in all that soy sauce?”

“It’s low sodium,” she said. Darcy grinned. “I’m kinda excited now. We’re gonna steal a mom!”

“Steal a mom?” he said dryly. She plated the stir fry and lo mein noodles happily.

“Just you wait, she’s gonna have a great trip. I’ll do a whole schedule. Now that Thor and Jane are doing their own grocery shopping, my budget’s opened up, too,” Darcy said. 

“You’re not paying for this,” he told her as he carried plates to the table. Almost sternly. 

“Why not?” Darcy asked, grinning. “I’m practically rich!”

“It’s my mother,” he said, setting his plate down. “Sit,” he ordered. She sat.

“But I’m hijacking her,” she said, when he brought her wine. “When this is over, she’s going to love me and want to stay with me when she comes into town.” He smirked at her and waved a fork in a scolding manner.

“No spending your money,” he said. “And I know you did more of my laundry.”

“It was there!” Darcy said. “I really don’t mind.” 

“I mind,” he said, giving her a flat look.

“Stop doing SHIELD face at me,” Darcy insisted, twirling noodles around her fork. “What about mini golf? Or laser tag? Would she like those?”

“Laser tag?” he said.

“Did you want to go?” she offered. He looked intrigued.

“Maybe,” he said. 

“Food good?” she asked.

“Always, Lewis,” he said.

* * *

“You ready?” Brock said, buckling on his vest. He thought Darcy looked dubious. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it unfair for us to join this team?” she said, looking over at their laser tag teammates. They’d had to join another party. Two people didn’t constitute a laser party team. So, they’d found another group who’d let them join their laser tag match. 

“Feldman said it was fine, it’s his bar mitzvah,” Brock said. The twelve year old boys were eyeing Darcy with frank curiosity. He thought there might be drooling involved. She was wearing a thin t-shirt with the neck cut out. Even in the dark, you couldn’t miss those boobs.

“But we’re grownups,” she said. “And they’re such cute babies. So squishable. They’re like, practically embryos.”

“I know I’m a grownup, but I don’t know about you,” he joked, ignoring her maternal moment. He mock-glared the tallest kid staring at her chest. The boy shrunk back nervously.

“Don’t scare them,” Darcy said, putting her hair in a ponytail. Brock snickered when some of the Feldman kid’s friends looked a little dizzy at her movement. “I see you picked the really big gun, too,” she added.

“I thought the AK-47 model would intimidate the other side, it’s psych ops,” he told her. The laser tag place let you pick from a few gun models. He glanced at the kids again. “I’m pretty sure they let me on the team for less than honorable reasons related to being able to see you jiggle when you run,” he joked. 

“Shut up,” she said. “Do I jiggle?” He checked his gun, then grinned at her. 

“Yes. Remember, you’re with David’s group, so I can shoot you,” Brock said.

“Just what you always wanted, the demise of your irritating roommate,” she teased. He tilted his head and looked her over, aiming for seriousness.

“I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart, but I don’t lose,” he said. “And you picked the wrong side.”

“Oh my God, you’re more competitive than Thor,” Darcy said. “Let’s go, I want a seventh grader to blast you now.” He wondered why she hadn’t invited Foster and Thor, actually. He looked at the rest of the team.

“Everybody’s got their vests?” Brock said to the group. The assorted boys nodded. “Okay, let’s go in.” He looked at Lewis. “You should run now,” he said wryly. She rolled her eyes, but bolted the moment their round started.

The inside of the laser tag course was dimly lit. Music was blasting above his head, but he tuned it out to hit his third middle schooler with a fatal electronic beep. Ahead of him, Lewis had ducked behind a half wall. She wasn’t going to make it out alive, he thought, as she tried to evade him. He stalked her around the room, taking out most of David’s team as he went. His gun beeped rhythmically. Very, very quietly, he stepped into a cubicle and raised the AK-47 to her head, pulling the trigger. “Bang, bang, sweetheart,” he whispered, standing close to her. Almost close enough for her ponytail to brush against his chest.

“Damn it!” Darcy hissed, turning her body to face him. He laughed quietly. “This is unfair. You’re professionally trained--” she said hotly.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You knew that going in.”

“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” she said. He was laughing at her evident frustration when one of the twelve year olds rounded on them and he had to turn quickly to take the kid out. 

“Oh, man!” the kid said.

“It’s really unfair,” Darcy complained from behind him.

“You’re dead, no talking,” Brock said dryly. 

“I kinda have to pee,” Darcy said.

“Me, too,” the kid said.

“Why did you block me?” Darcy wondered out loud. He’d put himself between her and the kid.

“Professional habit,” he said, shrugging.


	5. The Mom Whisperer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, as they faced a sea of tail lights. “We’re going to be late picking up your mother!” she told Brock. She looked over at him anxiously. He was seemingly unruffled. He wasn’t even going the speed limit when the traffic moved and he’d changed the radio station to CNN’s radio livestream. Jake Tapper was doing a special report. Normally, Darcy loved Jake Tapper. But she was practically squirming in her seat now.

“She’ll be fine, it’s the airport,” he said, voice even.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s the airport?’” Darcy asked.

“They don’t lose mothers at the airport, Lewis,” he said. The corners of his mouth turned up.

“Ugh, you’re so calm! How are you so calm?” she pleaded.

“Years of practice jumping out of planes,” Brock said. “It kinda helps when you’re late.”

“What if your mom doesn’t like me?” Darcy fretted.

“I thought you were the mom whisperer?” he said wryly.

“Shut up,” Darcy grumbled. 

“Calm down,” he told her.

“In the entire history of human existence, going back to the cave men, has telling someone to calm down ever actually made them calm down?” Darcy said. He chuckled.

“Here’s our exit,” Brock said.

“That is not the answer to my question,” Darcy said, sighing. They threaded through traffic. “You’re driving slow,” she added. He laughed then. 

“There she is,” Brock announced as they pulled into Terminal A’s pickup zone. A woman was standing at the curb, next to several suitcases. Darcy almost gasped. She was wearing a deep plum suit, a long scarf, and high heels. She was glamorous-looking.

“That’s your mother?” she said.

“Yeah. So?” he said, cutting his eyes at her.

“She’s wearing three inch heels!" Darcy said. “I’m not dressed for this. Oh my God.”

“Are you freaking out?” he said, frowning. “Why?”

“Thank God I made good reservations,” Darcy said anxiously.

“What is going on with you?” he said.

“I don’t know,” Darcy said out loud.

“She doesn’t bite,” he said.

* * *

“Isn’t this amazing, Angela?” Darcy said to Brock’s mother. Brock watched as she smiled at their waiter. “Thank you, Mark.” Mark beamed back at her. 

“It’s a lot of cheese,” Angela said. Brock tilted his head and looked between the two women. Darcy had pulled herself together at the airport. Possibly. She was doing a bright voice now and waving her arms a lot. They were eating at a fancy DC restaurant. A waiter had just sat a cheese plate in front of them. It had been ordered by Darcy after an elaborate decision-making process involving all three of them and the opinions of two nearby tables. His mother had seemed faintly startled by Darcy’s nonstop conversation and general enthusiasm for Spanish Gouda, but had warmed up quickly. She’d cycled between surprise and amusement as Darcy chatted their ears off about events of the last week. His mother was smiling now.

“You’re welcome, Darcy,” Mark said. “More drinks?”

“Yes,” Brock said, amused. Mark explained what was on the tray.

“Ohh, fig jam and bacon pops. I had no idea you could put bacon on sticks,” Darcy said, smiling, as the waiter disappeared. “I love that! I’m totally making these at home now.”

“Learn something new everyday,” he said. “Ma? You want a bacon pop?”

“Sure,” Angela said. He passed her one. She wiggled the bacon threaded on the thin stick. “Is it candied? I think it’s candied,” she said.

“Would you like to go to a museum after this?” Darcy said to his mother. “Or a monument? We can do whatever you want. Just decide what you want to do.” She stood up. Angela nodded.

“Where are you going?” Brock said.

“Bathroom,” she said.

“It was the bacon pops, wasn’t it?” he joked. “You got excited.”

“Shut up,” she said, laughing. “You know me too well already.”

“She’s like a puppy, Ma,” he said. “She has to pee when she gets excited.” 

“Shut up!” she repeated, more loudly. “Stop gloating, you gloat. He gloated like this at laser tag.”

“We went this week,” Brock explained. “She lost.”

“I didn’t just lose, I _died._ We did four different rounds. He massacred me. It was like a WWI trench battle, I just bled out. And then I died of pneumonia and mustard gas.”

“She didn’t even get any of the kids, much less me,” he said, feeling smug. 

“I’m a pacifist,” Darcy said.

“Since when?” he said.

“I just decided,” she said, scrunching her nose at him. 

When Darcy walked away, Brock looked at his mother. Angela smiled at him. She looked pleased. “How long have you been dating?” his mother asked.

“No, no,” he said. “She’s just staying with me until SHIELD works out a housing problem. It’s totally platonic.” His mother’s smile fell as she gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t look at me like that,” Brock insisted. “We looked at two apartments yesterday. She’s moving out any day now.”

“So, you aren’t together?” she said. She looked skeptical. “But you’re playing laser tag?”

“We’re friends, it’s friendly,” Brock said. “Our other option was mini golf.”

“I see. And your friends do your laundry now?” Angela said. Darcy had mentioned something about not knowing how to iron in the car.

“I keep trying to stop her from doing that,” he said. “I don’t know why she keeps washing my clothes.”

“Really?” his mother said. “You don’t have any idea?” Her look was pointed. 

“No, why would she wash my clothes---shh, here she is,” he said, as Darcy returned to the table. “Don’t say anything, Ma.” Darcy was smiling.

“Hi, again,” Darcy said brightly as she sat down. “I’m super excited about this Rochefort.”

“Oh, yeah, Rochefort,” he said wryly.

“You be quiet,” Angela said to Brock. “None of your lip.” She smiled at Darcy. “Mark said it was good with honey.”

“Ooooh, okay,” Darcy said, reaching for the spoon in a dish of honey on the cheese tray. “I trust Mark.”

“Tell me about mini golf,” Angela said. “That sounds fun.”

“There’s this place that has DC themed holes,” Darcy said. “Like cutouts of the Founding Fathers and Congress and stuff?”

“You wanna put a golf ball through George Washington?” Brock said.

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Don’t you? You’re always complaining about politicians and traffic, you know you want to. But first, I’m having another bacon pop.”

“Make sure you get some of the fig jam and brie,” Angela said. She gestured with her fork and Darcy busied herself with the tray, then paused. She looked up at him.

“You don’t want any?” Darcy asked Brock. 

“Oh, no, he’s always on a diet,” his mother said.

“It makes me so sad,” Darcy said. “He goes to the gym so much and he can’t even eat cheese.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Brock grumbled.

* * *

“You want more wine?” Angela asked Darcy. Darcy was sprawled next to Brock’s mother on the couch, debating the relative merits of Anderson Cooper versus Chris Cuomo.

“Yes. Mini golf was a good idea, by the way,” Darcy said. She liked Angela. They’d spent dinner talking about Brock’s childhood. Angela was funny. They’d talked about doing some sort of fancy cultural activity, but ended up playing mini golf and going back to Brock’s apartment instead. “I finally got to win a round!” Darcy said gleefully.

“I have very good ideas,” Angela said, refilling Darcy’s wine. “I like this rosé.”

“Brock picked it,” Darcy said. He was puttering around in the kitchen with the coffeemaker. “I dragged him with me to Aldi.” She glanced critically at the television screen. “I’m with you, I think Anderson Cooper is very classy, but Chris Cuomo is just so nice,” Darcy sighed. “Also, I saw this photo of him without a shirt once and it was actually astonishing. There are good muscles under that suit!” she said, laughing. Darcy expected Angela to make a joke. What she said next was a surprise.

“Why are you single, honey?” Angela asked. 

“Ummm?” she said. “I’ve been kinda busy since the end of my last relationship?”

“When was that?” Angela asked.

“Three years ago?” Darcy said tentatively. “I mean, I have things. Important things.”

“Uh-huh,” Angela said. She looked at Brock, rounding the corner with coffees. “She’s as bad as you!” Angela called out.

“What?” he said.

“Your mom is roasting me for being single,” Darcy said, giggling.

“Not roasting!” Angela said.

“She does that,” Brock said, nodding. 

“You’re just so nice and pretty, honey,” Angela said, patting her knee. “Why should you be alone? We need to find you someone nice. Why haven’t you helped her?” she asked her son.

“Help her how?” Brock said.

“You have all those men, somebody’s gotta be single. Make them take her out,” Angela said. 

“I, uh, no,” Brock stuttered. “I can’t--that’s not something I can do, Ma. I think it’s a crime. Technically.”

“I’m really not that athletic,” Darcy said, scrunching her nose. “I’d be afraid one of those guys would kill me!”

“Kill you?” Angela said.

“Well, sex me to death,” she amended. “You know what I mean?” She gestured with her wine glass. 

“Sex you to death?” Brock said in a dry voice.

“I don’t do enough cardio. My last boyfriend was British, it was very low-key, sex-wise,” Darcy said. She looked at Angela. “You know, like a Hugh Grant character? More of a ‘oh, well, I thought we might, ahem,--but if you’d rather not, we can always go for a walk. It looks like a light drizzle,” Darcy said, doing a passable accent. Angela started to laugh at her Ian impression.

“What?” Brock said.

“That’s how he asked for sex,” Darcy explained to Brock. He looked baffled. 

“How did we get here?” he said.

* * *

“How did I get here?” Darcy said blearily, trying to establish her location. She was pinned down by Brock’s arms. He was very warm, she realized. The cozy feeling was confusing. Darcy wiggled experimentally. There was no way she could get free without him letting go of her. She thought Brock might still be asleep, but he blinked, then grinned.

“You gave my mother your bed and volunteered to sleep on the couch, she said she couldn’t let you do that, so I said you could sleep with me,” he told her. He yawned. His hair was wild and his expression sleepy.

“Oh,” she said.

“It’s five am, go back to sleep,” he said. “You had a lot of wine with your mini golf.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, ducking her head against his neck and sighing. “You’re cozy,” she whispered. He was sturdy, in addition to all the warmth. Muscles everywhere. He chuckled.

“That’s what all the criminals and terrorists say, Lewis,” Brock said. “The drug cartel gave me a mug, it says SHIELD’s Best Snuggler,” he added. 

“Mmm-hmm,” she said.


	6. A Little Push

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey, does your mom like cheese in her eggs?” Darcy asked Brock. She was scrambling some for them. Angela was awake, getting dressed in the other room, while Brock made himself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah. But don’t put cheese in mine,” he said. 

“I would never,” Darcy said, playfully bumping him with her hip. He raised his eyebrows at her. 

“What cup of coffee is this, addict?” he said wryly.

“Excuse me, have you ever thought maybe, the coffee is addicted to me?” she said, beaming. “But two. It’s cup two.”

“Yeah, sure. What’s gotten into you?” he said. 

“I think found a place--the place,” Darcy said, voice excited. “It’s fifteen percent above Jane’s budget, though, so I’m going to need your help--” she was saying, when Angela came out of the bedroom. “Hey, good morning,” Darcy said, “I’m scrambling us eggs.”

“Wonderful,” Angela said, beaming at her. 

“How do you need my help with the new place?” Brock said. His voice was wry. “You want me to chip in on the rent?”

“No!” Darcy said, waving her spatula. “Silly. I mean I need you to convince Jane that it’s worth it to spend more. You can give her your security lecture.” She put her spatula down and reached for the box grater and the hunk of cheddar on the counter. “I think Jane will believe you and take you seriously,” she told Brock. “And so she’ll agree on the lease. Bingo, new apartment!” Her voice was cheery.

“She better take me seriously,” Brock said lightly. “Careful with that.”

“I am being careful--ah,” Darcy said.

“You caught your thumb,” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “But I’m not bleeding. Yay!”

“Yay,” he repeated dryly, reaching over to touch her thumb. She pulled her hand away, sticking her tongue out.

“Pffhhhht!” she said.

“I thought Jane and Thor were living in a SHIELD building?” Angela said. Darcy looked over. Angela was frowning. Darcy realized she might be blocking the other woman’s movement.

“Did you need to get to the coffee pot?” Darcy asked. “I can move over?”

“No, no, honey,” Angela said.

“She thinks everybody needs to get to the coffee pot--” Brock said.

“You shut up,” Darcy said, trying to elbow him. He dodged, laughing.

“I’ll get you a cup, Ma,” Brock said, shifting to stand behind Darcy. “One sugar still?”

“Yes,” his mother said. “So, Thor and Jane want to move?”

“Thor and Jane’s place is just temporary, until we’re all together again, the three amigos,” Darcy said, as he made the coffee and passed it to his mother. Darcy looked at Brock. “Soon. I promise. I’ll be out of your hair,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said, grinning. “You keep sayin’ that.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Darcy said. “I swear.”

“Ma?” Brock said. His mother was frowning, coffee at her lips. 

“I forgot something,” she said, setting down her coffee and going back to the bedroom.

“What’s that about?” Darcy wondered.

“No idea,” Brock said. “Eggs ready yet?”

“You’re going to miss me when I’m gone,” she sassed him.

* * *

“I’m telling you, I’ve been here a week and nothing!” Angela whispered into the phone. She’d called her daughter. 

“They’re sharing a bed, Ma,” Fallon said.

“She’s still talking about moving out.”

“Oh,” Fallon said. “They’re sleeping together, but not sleeping together?”

“I don’t think so,” Angela said in a low voice. “I hear them talking and laughing at night. Last night, I listened at the door, but they were just making jokes--”

“He’s gonna catch you!” Fallon said. She was laughing. “Listen--listening--a-at--the--the-door!” she got out, between noisy peals. 

“Shhh!” Angela said. “I thought if I got them in the same room, that would take care of it. Give them a little push.” Her voice was sad.

“You just want grandchildren,” Fallon said.

“Is that so wrong?” Angela said, sitting down on the bed. She looked around the bedroom. It was filled with Darcy’s things: a cheerfully painted, mismatched nightstand and dresser, mini paper lanterns and twinkle lights strung on the headboard, photos of Thor and Jane tacked up, and a little collection of novelty handbags. The one hanging nearest Angela was in the shape of a radio. It was a happy room. Darcy was a happy person. And young enough to want children, probably. You never knew. But it wasn’t like her son was getting any younger. She sighed.

“What, Ma?” Fallon said.

“I want grandchildren,” she admitted. 

“I knew it,” Fallon said.

“But she’s a nice girl, too,” Angela argued. “He seems happier with her around. That’s not just me having wishful thinking.”

“Sure,” Fallon said.

“I really thought staying a week would do it,” Angela said. “I could stay longer--”

“Maybe he’s impotent now, Ma,” Fallon said, cracking up again. “He’s old enough.” She was younger than her brother by twelve years. 

“Hush,” Angela scolded. “Why would you say that?”

“Usually, he’s just a big ol’ man slut,” Fallon mused. “Does he really like her as a friend?” 

“They’re in there making breakfast,” Angela said sadly. She could hear laughter from the kitchen. “She cooks for him and does his laundry.”

“Oh my God,” Fallon said. “Seriously, Ma--” Abruptly, the bedroom door opened and Brock stuck his head in. 

“Ma, what are you doing? Your eggs are getting cold,” he said.

“I was talking to your sister,” Angela said. “I’ll call you back, Fal.” She hung up quickly. She didn’t want Fallon to say anything to Brock.

“I don’t get to say hi to Fal?” he said. “Darcy made you toast.”

“That’s very kind of her,” Angela said, stowing her phone in her purse. “She’s a very nice girl. You should do something good for her today.” She stood up to follow him out of the room. 

“I am, I’m taking her to look at apartments,” he said, as they left the bedroom. “Jane’s letting her have the day.”

“Oh,” Angela said.

“What’s wrong, Ma?” Brock asked. Angela was busy looking at Darcy. She was putting butter on the table. She smiled at Angela brightly.

“We’ve got toast and bacon,” Darcy announced. 

“Can I go with you to look at the apartments?” Angela asked.

“Sure,” Darcy said brightly. 

“You really want to look at apartments with us?” Brock said, pulling out a chair for her.

“Thank you,” Angela said. He made to sit down and she scolded him. “Get Darcy’s chair!”

“Oh,” Brock said.

“Oh, no worries,” Darcy said. “I get my own chair and my own car door and I have my own library card and drivers’ license. I’m an independent woman.” She shimmied playfully. 

“You’re ridiculous, that’s what you are,” Brock said, smirking. Angela looked between them. “Ma, why are you making that face?” he said.

“I’m having so much fun here, I just don’t want to leave,” Angela said, trying to make her voice as bright and lively as possible.

“I’m not sure what that says about your life,” Brock said.

“You hush!” Angela said, smiling genuinely.

* * *

“This is it?” Brock said, looking around, as they advanced up the sidewalk outside the apartment. The building looked shabby. Despite Darcy’s assurances that this was a “better” option, he was skeptical. He was fairly sure he’d read about these apartments. He just wasn’t sure if it was in the police blotter or the news section about slum landlords.

“I like this one!” Darcy insisted, as they unlocked the lockbox on the door. “It has two actual bedrooms!”

“I wouldn’t store my clothes here,” Angela whispered to him, sotto voice. Brock chuckled. 

“She’s lived in closets, Ma,” he explained. “She wanted to move into some place where she’d have to sleep in the living room.”

“Do you always volunteer to do that?” Angela said out loud. Darcy scoffed at them.

“You’re spoiled, both of you, with actual bedrooms,” she said. “Besides, this place has been recently remodeled.” She stressed the last two words.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said, reading. 

“What?” Darcy said. He was looking at his phone.

“They remodeled because of Hurricane Georgia last summer,” he said. “According to this article, previous tenants in the complex sued for mold exposure. Made the news.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, deflating a little. “Damn it.”

“Off the list,” Brock said. “I gotta protect Foster from lung spores, too.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “This was my best option.” She looked sad. Brock nudged her.

“We’ll find you something,” he said.

“My budget sucks,” Darcy said. He nodded in agreement.

“It does. What’s funny?” Brock asked his mother. He’d realized she was smiling.

“Oh, your sister told me a joke,” Angela said. “Let’s go do something fun to cheer up Darcy. What do you like to do, honey?”

“She likes coffee,” Brock said. “When she’s sad, she needs coffee.”

“Oh God yes,” Darcy said. “So much coffee. Apartment hunting sucks.”

  
  


* * *

Darcy liked a coffee shop near Brock’s apartment. It was drizzling humid DC rain when they got out of the car. “Blergh,” she said, feeling unusually low, even though she knew it was silly and self-involved. An apartment disappointment and frizzy, damp hair weren’t usually enough to make her feel this blue and cynical.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Brock said teasingly.

“I wish I had a real budget and could live near here,” she admitted. Brock held the door open for them. “I love this place,” she told Angela. “It’s the best coffee shop.” Angela nodded.

“She likes the cheesy electric fireplace,” Brock said. There was a fireplace across the room and art on the walls. It was a nice place. 

“I want one day, where you can change the color of the flames,” Darcy said. “And the pecan turtle brownies are really good here.” She sighed heavily. 

“We’ll get you a brownie,” Brock said. “Ma, you want one, too?”


	7. They Were Roommates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Even the brownie didn’t ameliorate Darcy’s lousy mood. “Why don’t we go somewhere fun?” Angela suggested. “One of those museums you like?”

“They’re free, we could hit two,” Brock said. Darcy thought he was probably joking, but a small part of her was fretting that he was thinking about money because she was staying with him. She’d asked if his water and light bills had gone up, but he’d refused to tell her, waving it away. “What’s wrong?” he said, drawing her attention. “Don’t tell me something’s wrong with your brownie?” 

“I really need to talk to Jane about our budget,” Darcy said, biting her lip. She felt guilty. “I’ve got three more listings printed out…”

“Lemme see ‘em,” Brock said, holding his hand out for her notes. Darcy passed them over. He flipped through, Angela peering over his shoulder. “Shitty neighborhood, you’d get mugged for your fortune in scarves,” he teased, flipping a page crisply. “Even shittier neighborhood, no fucking way”--he flipped to her final listing--“and this one’s a one-bedroom, Lewis,” he scolded. 

“I can’t stay with you forever!” Darcy said, intending it to sound mock-frustrated, but accidentally knocking her fork off the table. It landed with a loud clatter that drew attention. “Shit,” Darcy said, leaning forward to pick it up and accidentally bumping her forehead against the table’s edge.

“I’ll get it for you,” Angela said quickly. It was nearer to her than Darcy. She swiped it off the floor. “Get you a new one,” she added, standing up.

“No, no--” Darcy began, but she had already headed for the counter. “She’s fast,” Darcy said, turning to look at Brock.

“She loves her zumba,” he said wryly. He tilted his head and looked at her. “Why don’t you let me do you a favor?” he offered.

“You do enough for me--” Darcy said, but he cut her off with a dismissive wave.

“This”--he held up her listings-- “isn’t working, all right? So, what I would suggest, instead of plowing into a brick wall again and again--”

“I wish the places I looked at had brick walls,” Darcy said. He grinned. 

“My suggestion is that you find some decent places and then take those to Foster. Once she sees what she can actually afford now, she won’t wanna go back to these places,” he said, tapping her listings. “Vary your methodology and approach.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “That is a good plan. A really good plan.” She looked at him. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I don’t know what I’d be doing without you.”

“Yeah? I do,” he said lightly. 

“Really?” she said, genuinely curious.

“You’d be sleeping on a couch while Thor and Foster have sex in the next room, approximately three and a half feet away. You’d need better earplugs, for a start,” he said. His tone made Darcy laugh. She was still giggling when Angela returned to the table.

“Everything’s okay? What did I miss?” she asked them.

“I was telling Darcy that she’d be in sad shape without me,” Brock joked. He looked at Darcy. “You want to go to a museum or do something really fun? Say something fun,” he told her.

“Something fun,” she said, smiling.

“What are we doing?” Angela said.

“How do you feel about rock climbing?” he asked.

“Rock climbing?” Darcy said. “Like outside?”

“Sounds fun,” Angela said brightly. “Let’s do that.”

* * *

It turned out there was a rocking climbing place in Arlington. Brock was strapping her into her harness when Darcy looked at the wall in front of her. She had to crane her neck to see the top. “Oh God,” she said. “It’s so....tall.” Angela was already scaling the beginners’ wall. Brock had said the whole family was fit---and intensely competitive.

“You’ll be fine,” he told her, adjusting the harness. “Look at Ma. Fit good?”

“Your mom isn’t afraid of heights,” Darcy said, trying to shake off her nervousness. “I’ve been having issues with being in the air since, well, Thor took me and Jane someplace via Mew-Mew for the first time. I puked for three hours.”

“It’s very fun!” Angela called down. “Brock, you stay with her if she’s afraid.”

“Hear that? I’m staying with you,” Brock said, steering her towards the wall. “Lead with your dominant foot, baby,” he said, cupping her waist. Darcy tried not to react at his touch. She was already nervous; she didn’t want to worry about sweating all over him. “Deep breath,” he said, as she attempted--and failed--to get her foot in the first little thingy.

“Shit,” she said. “This is harder than it looks on TV.” He had to give her a little boost. Then he held her rope and talked her through her movements as she ascended. That was more than a little annoying when she was clinging to the wall in terror, armpits all sweaty, hair managing to fall in her eyes. “Argh!” she said in frustration, midway up.

“About two feet to your left, sweetheart!” he called.

“If I could throw my shoe at you, I would!” Darcy yelled back. 

“Do you want me to hit him?” Angela said, already on her way back down the wall. “I will!” she said, laughing.

“Why am I getting all this abuse?” Brock said. “I’m teaching you a skill.”

“I don’t think I can move,” Darcy said. 

“What?” Brock said.

“I looked down when you talked and now my legs won’t go,” she said.

“You’re kidding?” he said. Darcy shook her head, deliberately not looking now. “You’re not kidding,” he said slowly.

“Not kidding!” she said. Brock had to get one of the gym’s instructors to hold her climbing rope while he climbed up to talk her down. Like she was a cat in a tree, she thought shamefully. Darcy was frozen in place, muscles aching, when he got next to her. 

“Hey,” he said. She turned to look, studying his shoulder. “You wanna hold onto me? Maybe let go of that?” he offered.

“Maybe,” Darcy said, realizing her knuckles were a smidge white.

“Okay. I’m going to edge over and put your arm around my shoulder, all right?” he said in an unnaturally calm voice. “Here we go, there it is. Tuck that arm right around my neck, baby.” He had one arm around her waist.

“Okay,” Darcy said in a hoarse voice. Her mouth was dry. She shifted over carefully, then he started to climb down. He was somehow managing to descend with one hand and the pressure of Darcy’s legs wrapped around his waist. She held onto Brock’s neck until he coughed slightly.

“I still gotta breathe,” he said.

“Sorry,” she said, loosening her grip. 

“It’s all right.” He finally dropped to the floor and set her down gently. Darcy wobbled, clinging to him. “You okay?” he said, clearly amused.

“No,” she said, fully slumping against him. He started to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at her! She’s had a scare,” Angela scolded.

“You’re fine, right?” he said warmly. 

“I’m too embarrassed to move,” Darcy said in a whisper. “Hide me.” She could tell the staff was watching them. Probably laughing.

“I’ll walk you to the car,” Brock said, rubbing her back. He unbuckled her harness and got her out of it. She let him help her, partially so she didn’t have to look at anyone. Also, her legs felt like jelly.

“She signed a waiver,” a voice said at her elbow. Darcy pretended that her eyes were glued to the ground. She knew she was blushing. 

“She’s fine, just a little nervous,” Brock said, sliding his own harness off easily. “What?” he said.

“You do everything so well,” Darcy said, feeling a strange kind of envy.

“Okay, you need to sit down,” he said. “Ma, I’m walking her out. You can stay, I’ll come back. I wanna look at those pull up bars.” They moved outside. It was sunny. Darcy squinted in the sunlight.

“I really need to talk to Jane,” Darcy said to Brock, as he opened the car door.

“Huh?” Brock said.

“I feel really bad that I’m doing this to you,” she confessed. 

“Doing what?” he said. 

* * *

“She said you do everything well,” Angela said, when Brock came inside to collect her and check the price on the gym’s branded training equipment. “Isn’t that sweet?” 

“Huh?” Brock said, not following his mother’s train of thought. He let go of the display pull up bar and looked at her quizzically. Everybody was saying weird shit to him today. First Darcy, now his mother?

“Darcy,” Angela said. “She said you do everything well.”

“Oh,” he said, shrugging. “So?”

“Would you like to buy _Training for Climbing?”_ an employee asked. 

“How much is it?” Brock said.

“Twenty nine ninety five,” the employee said. 

“Thirty dollars?” his mother said, sounding shocked.

“Plus tax,” the employee said, looking awkward.

“Darcy can read it,” Brock said mildly, handing over his debit card. “She shouldn’t let this psych her out.” He sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Angela said.

“She wants to go talk to Jane. She’s spiralling about this budget thing. I’m sure that’s on her mind. Probably why she froze up there,” he said. “Anxiety.”

“What if I do something nice for her--and you?” Angela said. “I could make carbonara?”

“You want to make carbonara?” Brock asked. “Why?”

“What, you don’t eat carbonara anymore?” his mother asked. He pulled a face. “Don’t you eh me,” she said. “You can drop me off at the grocery store, I’ll take an Uber back to your apartment.”

“It’s all carbs!” he insisted, as they exited the gym. Darcy was in his car, probably looking down at her the phone.

“She’ll go talk to Jane and have a nice meal to cheer herself up,” his mother said stubbornly. She suddenly put her hand on his arm as they stood on the sidewalk. “Wait a minute,” she said.

“Okay, okay. I’ll eat carbonara,” Brock said, feeling himself wince. All those fucking carbs. He’d be eating spinach and salmon all week to make up for it. 

“No,” his mother said. “Do you really want Darcy to move out? You seem happier--”

“What?” Brock said, mouth dropping open.

“You like having her around the house,” Angela said. “You’re happy to have the company.” He stared.

“You think I need a roommate?” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I’m old. Old men don’t have roommates. Unless they’re in the nursing home,” he cracked. His mother shut her mouth, expression frustrated, then opened it, and shut it again. It was oddly like an angry fish. She huffed.

“This is why men die earlier,” Angela said finally. “Having her around will keep you young.”

“You think so?” Brock said. He tilted his head and looked at Darcy. “Huh.”

“Well?” Angela said.

“I’ll think about it,” Brock said. His mother scoffed. He looked at her, grinning. “What if she doesn’t like living with me?” he said.

“She loves living with you,” Angela insisted, as they went towards the car. “Look at how she does your clothes and things. She cooks for you!”

“I thought that was guilt,” he said dryly.

“But you’ll ask her?” Angela said.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said. Lewis probably did like living with him, he thought. He didn't leave a damn mess everywhere. Would it be doing her a favor?

* * *

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for you?” Darcy said, as they dropped Angela off at a grocery store. “I feel like we should wait for you?” Angela smiled at her cheerfully.

“I’ll take an Uber!” she said.

“Are you okay with this?” Darcy said to Brock. He grinned at her.

“You can’t argue with her,” he said. “Call me when you leave, Ma.” 

“Of course,” Angela said. They watched as she got out of the car and went inside. She was already talking to another customer. 

“I like your mom,” Darcy said. He started to laugh. “What?” she said.

“About that,” Brock said, smirking. “She thinks we should live together. This meal is probably a bribe.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“It occurred to me,” he said, backing out of the parking space. “That it might be nice to have someone there when I’m not there, since I’m gone so much--and it would take the pressure off your apartment search,” he added.

“Oh,” Darcy said, realizing he still meant temporary roommate. Her heart had done a funny thing when he said live together.

“And I can live with you and your nutrition-free snacks, I can’t tolerate anybody else,” Brock said. “Thor and Foster proved that.”

“Hey, don’t insult my large children,” she said. He grinned and pretended to hold his fingers off the wheel in mock surrender. 

“I’m glad you’re an empty nester,” he said.

“What about rent and stuff?” Darcy said, feeling nervous. “I’m sure your place is expensive--”

“We can split utilities,” he said. “And, uh, HOA shit. I don’t have a mortgage, I paid it off last year.”

“Oh,” she repeated. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You want to go tell Jane?”

"Okay," she said. There were butterflies in her stomach, for some reason.  
  


* * *

“You’re moving in with him?” Jane said, as they sat in the lab at SHIELD. “For real?”

“Yes?” Darcy said. “I guess?”

“You guess? I don’t understand,” she said. 

“He thinks it would be nice to have someone staying at his place while he’s gone for work,” Darcy explained slowly. “And then we don’t have to rush into any apartment decisions. Our budget really sucks, we need to spend more money if you want the three of us to live together here. It’s not Norway, DC is expensive.” Her voice had gotten a little edgy.

“Why are you using that tone?” Jane said.

“Because you need to accept reality, if we’re ever going to find a place,” Darcy said, feeling oddly frustrated. “I’m sick of sleeping on couches and futons. I’m not twenty-five anymore. If Brock wasn’t volunteering to do this, I probably wouldn’t have a bed to sleep in,” she grumbled. 

“Aren’t you sleeping on his couch with his mom here?” Jane said.

“Not the point,” Darcy said. “And no, I’m not sleeping--” She froze. She hadn’t told Jane they were sharing his bed. “I, uh--” she stuttered, brain stalling out.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch?” Jane said. Her expression grew canny. “Where are you sleeping? Oh my God, you’re having sex with him, aren’t you?”

“No, no,” Darcy said, waving her arms. Brock was talking to a STRIKE agent in the hall. She could see him through the glass wall. “Shut up, shut up,” she said. “I don’t want him to hear you.”

“Sure, you’re just roommates,” Jane said, openly laughing. “That’s why your face is doing that.”

“What is my face doing?” Darcy said plaintively. She had no idea. 

  
  
  



	8. I'm Not Certain But I Have...Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“You ready to go home?” Brock said, sticking his head into the lab. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She grabbed her messenger, giving Jane a significant look while she had her back to him. “Sure.”

“My mother called,” he said. “We’ve been given orders.” His voice was dry.

“Darcy just loves your mom,” Jane said, surprising Darcy. Darcy arched her eyebrows. “I hear they get along great,” Jane added, smiling. What was she doing, Darcy thought, as she shoved her laptop into the bag.

“Well, yeah, but haven’t you trained Lewis to put up with all kinds of scenarios? The big blonde in the desert, no money, frozen fjords in Norway, pasty elves, lumpy sofas? Of course she gets along with one seventy year old woman from the Bronx,” Brock said. His voice was laced with sarcasm. Jane looked momentarily stunned that he was giving her backtalk. 

“He totally got you there,” Darcy said, pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t giggle. 

“Security’s being awfully protective these days,” Jane finally said back.

“All part of the job,” Brock said lightly. 

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. “Darce, can I call you tonight with questions about cooking?” 

“Sure--” Darcy started to say, but Brock shook his head. 

“My mother’s got something planned for Darcy,” he told Jane. “And she hates calls at the dinner table.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to Google, then,” Jane said, looking oddly happy. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you, though.” 

“You’ve got a PhD and a boyfriend who’s a thousand, you’ll be fine,” Brock told her. Darcy looked between them for a second, wondering if this was some sort of competition. It felt like a competition. Weird as hell. 

“I’m ready,” she told Brock. 

“Good,” he said. “I’m going to need extra gym time for this dinner--” he was saying, as he held the lab door open.

“Have a great time!” Jane said. 

* * *

“For the record, I really do like your mom, Jane’s just being weird,” Darcy said, as they got on the elevator.

“I knew you liked my mother,” he said. He hit the button for the parking deck level.

“I don’t know what that was about,” Darcy said, to cover her awkwardness. 

“Yeah?” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Foster is used to your life revolving around hers,” he said. “You’re like her little moon. Which one of the planets has all the moons?”

“Um, Jupiter?” Darcy said, distracted. “You really think I’m like her moon? Just circling around Jane?” The idea was strangely visual.

“Nope,” he said.

“No?” 

“Not anymore,” he said. “Now she’s cooking for herself and finding her way home at night,” he said drily. They descended several floors.

“Does that make me _your_ moon?” Darcy wondered. The elevator dinged gently. Brock looked at her. His expression was still. He furrowed his brow.

“I can do my own laundry and find my way home at night,” he said. The doors opened to the parking deck. “C’mon, roomie, let’s go see what my mother’s up to,” he said. They had to stop and talk to several STRIKE agents who were also leaving at the same time. Darcy stood at Brock’s elbow, feeling wildly awkward, as they talked about mission reports, equipment funding, and some new metric SHIELD was rolling out for the field agents. “You know Darcy,” Brock said, introducing her to each one. “She’s my new roommate.”

“I, uh, work with Jane Foster,” Darcy said, flicking back her hair. It was a nervous gesture. The agents all seemed to look at her and grin. The last one flicked his eyes over her and smiled even more widely. 

“How’d you luck out, Grandpa?” the agent said to Brock teasingly.

“Cut it out, motherfucker,” Rumlow said. He looked at Darcy as they walked away. “Obviously, I need to keep you away from these assholes.” For some reason, that made her laugh. She laughed when he called his mother in the car to say they were on their way, too. But that was because she could hear Angela scolding him about the food getting cold. He hung up. “I’m in trouble,” he said. “I’m supposed to get you there on time.”

“It’ll be okay,” Darcy said comfortingly. “I know how to re-heat.”

* * *

“Finally,” Angela said, when they arrived and came into the kitchen. She waved a wine glass. “Where have you been? What were you doing?” she asked Brock.

“Traffic,” he said. “But look who’s moving in with me for the foreseeable future.” He put his hands on Darcy’s shoulders and steered her towards Angela. Darcy grinned sheepishly.

“That, uh, would be me,” Darcy said.

“Ohh, that’s wonderful!” Angela said.

“He’s being very nice to me,” Darcy said. He dropped his hands and moved over to the cabinets, getting out two wine glasses. Darcy looked at the table. Angela had set it beautifully. “That’s so pretty,” she said. There were even little candles.

“I need someone to water the plants,” Brock said. 

“You don’t have plants!” Darcy said, turning her head towards him.

“I could get some,” he said, passing her the glass he’d just filled with wine.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. Angela took her apron off and smiled at Darcy. “This is so nice of you, really,” Darcy said. 

“I’ve got the parmesan on the table, the carbonara is ready,” she announced, “but I have to leave. I have an antique doll event.”

“What?” Darcy said. Brock stared at his mother, glass of wine paused at chest level.

“You remember Linda Kovascu from the neighborhood,” Angela said. “Well, it turns out one of the museums here is doing a workshop about those antique dolls she loves. It’s a free workshop, so I’m going to go record it for her. We talked on the phone.”

“You talked on the phone?” Brock repeated. 

“You’re going now?” Darcy said.

“You just save me some leftovers,” Angela said, acting as if she was in a hurry. She got her purse. “My Uber is already here.” She looked at Brock. “Lock the door behind me, I love you,” she told him.

“Federal agent,” he said wryly, following her to the door. Darcy heard him tell her that he loved her, too. He came back.

“What the heck was that?” Darcy said. 

“I have no idea,” Brock said, shrugging fluidly. He drank from his glass. “This is good wine, though.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. 

“I’m kinda relieved,” he said slowly. “I need you to do something for me. Something important.” His face was serious.

“Sure. Yeah. Okay,” Darcy said. “What?” She swallowed nervously. She had no idea what he’d ask her to do. Not move in?

“I need you to tell my mother that I ate some of this carbonara,” Brock said, flashing her a grin.

“I get all the pasta?” Darcy said, confused and delighted.

“Yes, you do,” he said. He turned to the refrigerator and peered in. “And I’m putting you in charge of the music while I find the salmon that is somewhere in my fridge.” He rummaged. “Shit. Where’d you go, you fucking fish?”

“This is actually fun,” Darcy said, some five minutes later. She was eating straight out of the serving bowl while he scrambled eggs. The salmon was still MIA. “Are you sure that you don’t want some of this? It’s amazing,” she said, twirling her fork. 

“Nope,” he said. “I like this song. Who is this?”

“It’s Hozier,” Darcy said. “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene. Weird title, good song. Scrambled eggs, really?”

“Protein,” he said firmly. He sat down with his plate of eggs.

“This has bacon!” Darcy said. He shook his head wryly.

“You’re supposed to lie for me, remember?” he said.

“I have to commit mom perjury,” she said, snorting. He grinned at her. “But while we’re keeping secrets,” she told him, “I have a tiny confession.”

“You have something to tell me?” he said, studying her. He leaned forward. “Tell me.”

“Thor may have been the reason your salmon is missing,” Darcy said. “I’m not certain, but I have...suspicions.” He seemed to find that especially funny. They were eating when he looked at her quizzically again.

“What is it?” Darcy asked. 

“You’re happy here, right?” Brock said. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I am. Happy.”

“Good. My mother thought so,” he said. “She likes you.”

“But she also thinks antique dolls are fascinating,” Darcy said, then wondered if she’d overstepped. But he smiled.

“I have no fucking clue what that’s about. I know she, uh, thinks I’m better off with you around,” he said. “That you’ll keep me young or something.”

“I thought that was the scrambled eggs’ job?” Darcy teased, unsure how to respond. Was she supposed to joke? Was he joking? Brock flashed her another of those wide smiles, the ones he rarely did at work. Then his expression grew more neutral, but he held her gaze. The atmosphere in the room changed. Darcy felt like something was going on between them. “I, uh,” Darcy said, uncertain. Then she realized she was waving her fork. She put it down. “I’ll be right back,” she said. She was going to the bathroom to deep breathe or freak out or something.

“Sure,” he said. She got as far as the bedroom door and stopped. 

“Brock?” she said. “Can you come here?” He got up.

“Yeah?” he said, walking over.

“What are those?” Darcy said, pointing to the things strewn all over the bed.

“Fuck,” he said.

“You didn’t just leave those there?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I did not put rose petals on the damn bed. On the plus side, we’ve just figured out my mother’s sudden interest in antique dolls.”

“We have?” Darcy said.

“She’s desperate for grandchildren,” he said.

“And the rose petals would...help with that?” Darcy wondered aloud.

“The booze certainly would,” he said. There was champagne on the nightstand.

“She went all out,” Darcy said. “Ice bucket and two glasses and everything.”

* * *

“I had no idea antique doll talks were such raves,” Brock said dryly, emerging from the bedroom. It was after midnight and Angela still wasn’t back. Darcy looked up from the couch. She’d decided to sleep on the couch tonight. Brock had seemed to find it all funny as he swept the rose petals into a bowl, but who knew how he really felt? He might want space.

“Must be a wild scene,” she said, trying for lightness. 

“You don’t have to sleep out here,” he said.

“I don’t want to make things awkward,” Darcy said, tugging a little at the hem of her pjs. 

“Okay,” he said. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he got water. Darcy thought he was going back into the bedroom, but he stopped in the doorway and half turned, grimacing. “That damn couch isn’t comfortable,” Brock said. 

“Well, why’d you buy it, then?” Darcy asked.

“Because it looks good and I never sit down,” he said. “Come to bed. I don’t want shit getting weird between us. We need to work through this if we’re living together.”

“Work through this?” Darcy said. He gestured and disappeared into the bedroom. She got up and followed.

“I’ve got a present for you,” he said, sitting on the bed. On the other side, there was a book. Darcy walked over and picked it up.

“A book about climbing?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “You can’t let things get in your head, okay?” Darcy got in bed carefully, ignoring the rose petals in a bowl on her nightstand, and looked at the book’s table of contents. Then she looked at him. “What?” he said.

“I think I like your mom’s presents better,” she said, dissolving into laughter. It just popped out of her mouth.

“Fuck you,” he said mildly. In response, Darcy grabbed some of the petals and threw them at him.

“Shut up,” she said, laughing as he brushed the petals off his face. 

“They went down my damn shirt,” he said. “I hate the fucking smell of roses.”

“Really?” Darcy said, pretending to be sad.

“Yeah--hey!” Brock said. She threw another fistful at him and started to laugh again.

“You little wiseass,” he said, turning to face her. “Don’t make me return you to Tiny Science and her prince.” Darcy grinned back at him. They were facing each other on their respective pillows.

“You can’t return me, you don’t have a receipt,” she said softly. 

  
  



	9. Not A Big Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Earning our M-rating with this chapter. Second chapter update for 5/25.

“What time is it now?” Darcy said. Angela still wasn’t home. Brock had actually texted her and she’d insisted she was fine and been vague about when she was coming home.

“Two-thirty,” he said. Neither of them could sleep. They were just lying in the dark, talking. Mostly about his mother, but also work.

“I can’t believe she did that,” Darcy said, giggling.

“I can,” he said. “She’s relentless.”

“About grandchildren,” she said. “But where is she?”

“No idea,” he said. “I should’ve bugged her phone.”

“Maybe she took her rose petals to someone else’s house,” Darcy teased. 

“Good for her,” Brock said.

“Oh, that’s very liberal of you,” Darcy said, slightly disappointed that he wasn’t offended. She’d said it hoping he would make funny faces.

“Ma’s a widow,” he said, shrugging. “And sex is sex. No big deal.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “No big deal?”

“No,” he said. “I mean, it can be, but it doesn’t have to be.” He chuckled. 

“What?” Darcy said, turning her head to study his profile in the light from the bedside lamp.

“You kept apologizing to me and doing my damn laundry,” he said, shaking his head. “When Thor and Jane were here. You still are.”

“I don’t follow,” Darcy said, confused.

“Lots of people would have just offered sexual favors,” he said.

“What?” Darcy said, laughing. 

“I think you made more work for yourself,” he said wryly.

“Wait, are you saying that’s what you wanted? Sex instead of laundry?” Darcy said, craning her neck up.

“I’m not saying that,” Brock said. There was a pause. “But I’m a man, all men want that.” 

“Plenty of women want that,” Darcy said, turning her head to study the ceiling. 

“Sure,” he said.

“Men always underestimate how much women want sex,” she told him. 

“Oh yeah?” The tension in the room had ratcheted up again, she thought. She could tell he was looking at her. “What? You okay?” he asked. Was she? She thought she was. And she had an idea. It might be a stupid idea. But she was wildly curious. Darcy looked at him. 

“Give me a condom,” she said, holding her hand out.

“What?” he said.

“You have some, right?”

“Yeah, but--” he began.

“I can take a hint,” she said.

“I wasn’t hinting,” he insisted.

“Yeah, those are usually more subtle,” Darcy said, wiggling her fingers. “Gimme, gimme.”

“You wanna fuck?” he said, clearly startled.

“Actually, I was just going to do you a one-time favor, it would be more of a roommates with apologies deal,” she said archly. She’d had enough wine to feel slightly uninhibited. People always teased her that she did what she really wanted to do after two glasses of wine. It wasn’t untrue. It was just usually karaoke and stuff like that. “Are you changing your mind?” 

“No, but, uh--” he said, getting one out of the nightstand, “you’re sure?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Darcy said, taking the condom out of his hand, tearing the foil, and ducking under the covers. 

“Darcy,” he was saying, as she slid down his boxers. 

“Yes,” she called from under the sheet, touching him. His dick looked slightly different from the version of him in her imagination, but still good, she thought. She would never admit to Jane how much she’d thought about him naked. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said. Darcy raked her fingers through his pubic hair, then gripped him gently. “You’re not even going to kiss me first?” he called out. He rocked his hips a fraction in response to her movements, already hard.

“Kissing isn’t part of the transaction,” she joked, but she did stretch to lightly kiss the spot under his belly button. That surprised him. 

“Hey,” he said, voice warm.

“You okay?” she said, as she stroked him slowly, then put the condom on.

“Yeah. Shit,” he said. “Fuck.” 

“You’re eager,” she said, trying not to giggle too much. 

“Yes. Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” she heard him say. She was trying to concentrate on getting this right, despite her rapid heartbeat. Darcy felt like she might laugh or cough if she actually looked into his eyes while she got him off. Thank God for the sheet, she thought. She dipped her head forward, trying something with her tongue on the underside of his shaft. It had been awhile. Most of the sex happening in her vicinity was all Thor and Jane. “Jesus,” Brock said, groaning. “I want that—want you,” he said, voice low. She took that as a good sign. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said. She was still under the sheet when she heard a noise. It was the front door opening. 

“Goddammit,” Brock said, freezing. Darcy released him. It was obvious Angela was trying to be quiet, but Darcy could hear her moving around in the silence.

“You wanna stop?” she offered, peeking out from under the sheet. He looked slightly wild-eyed. She’d never seen him do that face before.

“Ye—no,” he said, grimacing. “No. Fuck.”

“I’ll be quiet,” she whispered, then ducked back down again with a giggle.

“Oh shit,” he murmured, then groaned when she started again. “Fuck. You’re killing me—uhhhh, I’m close, I’m close.” She could tell he was trying to be quiet, but he came with a guttural sound. His body tensed and then slumped underneath her. “Shit,” he said, as she crawled out from under the sheet and flopped on her back with a sigh. He looked relaxed and smirked at her. His expression was almost dopey. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she said. He reached for her hand, but she was already moving. “You can handle self clean up?” Darcy said wryly, kicking off the blankets.

“Where are you going?” he said, half sitting up in alarm. 

“Brush my teeth,” she said. He followed her into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He was gazing at her reflection with a strange look. “What?” she said, spitting out toothpaste.

“You want me to, uh, return the favor?” he offered.

“You’re letting me live here,” she reminded him. “That’s your side of the favor.”

“I don’t want it to be my side,” he muttered, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

“Your mom is here, too,” Darcy said, grinning at his vexed expression. He sighed. When she crawled back in bed, he looked at her.

“You don’t want to talk?” Brock said. “Or fool around?”

“I’m okay,” Darcy said, getting into her usual sleeping position. She was afraid facing him might make her giggle. Her nervousness had returned, just a little bit.

“You’re turning your back to me?” he said, sounding insulted.

“I always sleep like this!” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Get in closer?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, scooting towards him. He wrapped his arms around her and they lay there for a moment. Then Brock started exploring: one hand gently cupped her chest and the other slid between her legs. Her pajamas were thin enough that she could feel every nuance of his touch. “Mmm,” she said, the sound slipping out.

“Let me,” he whispered, mouth close to her ear.

“Okay,” Darcy said. As soon as she spoke, he towed down her pants. She laughed when she realized he was leaving them tangled around her ankles so he could kiss the inside of her thighs eagerly. “Ohhhh,” she said, as his mouth moved up to the apex of her thighs. He was enthusiastic, she realized, feeling his tongue flick against her gently. “Uhhh, uhhh,” she whimpered. Brock rolled his eyes up to meet hers and smirked.

“Good?” he said, 

“Oh God, don’t stop,” Darcy moaned, tugging his hair to urge him on. All her senses were concentrated on his mouth. 

* * *

When she woke up, she was alone in the bed. It was almost eight in the morning and she had a wine-induced headache. Had he left for the gym? Sometimes, he hit the gym while she was asleep and then swung back to pick her up. Darcy listened for a second, then realized she could hear Brock talking to his mother. That probably meant he’d already been. She was going to be late, she thought, trying to get out of bed and ending up stuck somehow. “Shit,” she said, laughing. Her pajamas were still stuck around her feet. She slid out of bed, leaving them on the floor, and crept over to the door to listen for a second. 

“Ma,” he was saying, “you can’t meddle like that. Rose petals?” His voice was a blend of amusement and scorn. For a second, she thought he was coming back and his mother would see her with no pants on. Fleeing away from the door, she climbed into the shower. She was co-washing her hair when Brock knocked and came into the bathroom. 

“I brought coffee,” he said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. Blurrily--she had neither glasses nor contacts in--she peeked around the curtain and saw him set the cup on his bathroom countertop. She expected him to leave, but he lingered, watching her.

“You want toast or something?” he offered.

“Aren’t we late for work?” Darcy asked, scrunching her hair.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Squish to condish,” she said. “It’s a real thing.” She gave her hair a final rinse and turned off the water. “But I’m hurrying, I swear. Jane won’t care if my hair is wet,” she told him, opening the curtain to step out. She was worried he didn’t want to be late. He usually had meetings or important training exercises. Scheduled things. She never had scheduled things. Darcy expected him to pass her the towel, but he wrapped it carefully around her instead. 

“Good morning,” he said, face a blur. 

“Hi,” Darcy said. She climbed out as he stood there, then got her glasses. It was driving her crazy that she couldn’t see his expressions while she was standing there, all naked and drippy.

“We’re not in a rush,” he said, as she put them on. Darcy looked at him. He seemed calm. “I don’t have anything until eleven.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. 

“I’ll get you that toast,” he said.

“Thank you,” she repeated, wondering if he would kiss her. He didn’t. She tried to manage her disappointment, until he stopped in the doorway,

“I, uh, had fun last night,” he said, grinning.

“Me, too,” she said. “Maybe we should do it again sometime.” She didn’t know quite why she said it, it just popped out. He laughed. 

“Yeah,” he said. He pointed a finger at her scoldingly. “Don’t tempt me, I need to remember this toast thing.” 

“I can’t believe you’re going to touch an actual carb,” she said, in her best Valley-girl impression. She was trying to be light. Light and breezy. He backed out of the bathroom, still laughing.

“Don’t make me!” Brock said, pretending to be unwilling as he left. She heard him shut the bedroom door. She was alone.

“Well,” Darcy said, scrunching water out of her hair and looking at her reflection in the mirror. She felt slightly confused. “This is...weird.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 


	10. We're Friends, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Thanks to Queen Isabella for the idea for this chapter!

Darcy plopped up her hair in a towel turban, got dressed, and wandered out into the kitchen when Brock yelled something about breakfast. “You’ve got a towel on your head,” he said, grinning. He was holding her plate of toast. And there was a cup of coffee on the table.

“You’re usually at the gym when I wander around like this,” she told him. “Thank you. You made me coffee and bacon?”

“It’s turkey bacon,” he admitted. 

“Boooooo, less fun than regular bacon.”

“Less fat,” he said. “The word you’re looking for is less fat.” Darcy laughed, then sat down. He sat down, too.

“Fat is where the fun is,” she said. She realized he was looking at her intently. “But thank you,” she said again.

“You’re welcome,” he said, smirking. She had the funniest feeling that he was imagining her naked. Darcy shook off the thought so she could eat. She had a triangle of toast in her mouth when Angela emerged from her bedroom. 

“Hi,” Darcy said.

“Good morning,” Angela said.

“Ma,” Brock said. Angela glared at him, then sighed. 

“All right, fine,” she said. Then she cleared her throat. “I have something I must say. Apparently.”

“What’s happening?” Darcy said, mouth full of toast.

“My mother is apologizing,” Brock said.

“Apparently,” Angela said, “it was a mistake for me to put rose petals in the bedroom. I am sorry if I overstepped.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “S’okay, really.”

“Don’t let her off the hook so easy,” Brock said, waving a hand. 

“You’re enjoying this,” Angela said to her son, giving him another dark look.

“She almost slept on the couch last night,” he said, gesturing to Darcy. “You made her feel uncomfortable.” He stressed the last word.

“I’m really fine,” Darcy said, “so let’s just head off--I mean stop talking about it, okay?” She felt herself blush at the poor choice of words. Angela looked at her, evidently concerned. 

“I”m sorry, honey,” she said sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” She waved her arms. “He’s too old for you, anyway--”

“Hey,” Brock said, clearly offended. “If I’m old, what’s that make you?” He waved his fork.

“Stop pointing,” she said to him, then looked at Darcy. “He’s old and stubborn and you’re too nice to put up with that. He wouldn’t know a good thing--”

“Bullshit,” Brock said, clearly wound up. “I know exactly how good I have it--”

“Um,” Darcy said, pulling a face. “I really do need to go to work.”

“Shit,” Brock said. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” Angela added quickly. 

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. “I’m just going to put my coffee in a to-go cup and get my bag.”

“Why don’t you let me take you to lunch to apologize?” Angela said suddenly. 

“Ma--” Brock began.

“What’s wrong with a girls’ lunch?” she said.

“That sounds great, actually,” Darcy said. “One o’clock today? I wouldn’t mind getting out of the lab, really.” 

“Wonderful,” Angela said.

“Darcy,” Brock said, voice more urgent.

“Yeah?” she said. 

“You’ve still got that towel thing on,” he told her. 

“Oh, shit,” Darcy said. “I’ll be right back.” She went to the bathroom, undid her turban towel, and at the last moment, spritzed on some perfume. She’d forgotten to before. 

* * *

“What are you doing?” Brock said, as they went downstairs to get in the car. 

“Getting along with your mother,” Darcy said. “Being normal.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Besides, I’m sick of sad desk lunches, anyway. And your mom likes good restaurants,” she added. They got in his vehicle. It was very quiet. He was merging into a lane of the Beltway when he looked at her. “What?” she said.

“You smell good,” he said.

“Oh. Thanks?” she said, wondering if he was flirting with her.

“You sure you don’t need me to tag along?” he said. “For backup with Ma?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Darcy said. “I like your mom.”

“I’m working on getting her back to New York,” he said, grinning. Darcy lapsed into silence, pretending to skim her emails. Then Brock glanced at her as they took the exit nearest SHIELD’s new headquarters. “Why don’t we go to lunch? If you don’t like eating in the lab,” he said. “I know some good places in town.”

“I figured you’d be eating with your team,” Darcy said. “And you’ve been running all over town with me, apartment-hunting.”

“We’ll go to lunch later this week,” he said, as SHIELD came into view. “If you want to?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Of course.”

“You said that fast,” he said in a teasing voice. “You really like lunch, huh?”

“I like food,” she sassed him. “Some people eat.” The gate guard at the parking deck recognized them and waved Rumlow through. He turned his head and looked at her, then smirked.

“Baby, you know I like to eat,” he said wryly.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, starting to laugh. “I’m getting out of the car now, that was the worst line in the history of the world. I’ll see you later.”

“If my mother gives you trouble, call me,” Brock said. 

“I will be fine!” Darcy insisted, shutting the car door. She flicked her still-damp hair a little and walked towards the elevator. Behind her, she heard Brock get out and then start talking to someone who called out his name. Darcy looked back over her shoulder. It was a female field agent. She craned her neck and slowed to look at them.

“Whoa,” a voice said, as she nearly walked into another agent coming off the elevator.. Darcy turned her head sharply.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said. 

* * *

“What’s got you all quiet?” Jane said. “Are you and Brock fighting?” Darcy looked up from where she’d been zoning out. 

“Um, no,” Darcy said. She’d been thinking about him. They weren’t angry thoughts. Nope. Definitely not. Darcy looked at Jane, trying to decide what she wanted to tell her. “His, um, mother is taking me to lunch today. She sort of tried to set us up last night?”

“Set you up?” Jane said. 

“She put rose petals on his bed and champagne on the nightstand,” Darcy confessed, grinning. “So, he made her apologize at breakfast.”

“Awwww,” Jane said. “She does like you!”

“Did you doubt that she likes me? I’m likable!” Darcy said, pretending to be offended.

“It’s sweet, is all,” Jane said, “and when you do start dating, _his_ family will be supportive, not like Odin--”

“Excuse me?” Darcy said. “We’re not dating!”

“You’re living together, he obviously likes you, too,” Jane said, as if she was being purposefully obtuse. “Men just don’t ask you to move in platonically.”

“We’re friends,” Darcy said stubbornly. She was so not telling Jane about last night. 

“Sure,” Jane said. “I see how he acts around you.” 

“How does he act?” Darcy asked, befuddled. Had they touched each other or something?

“He herds you like--like--a border collie. He’s already separated you from the flock--”

“What?” Darcy said, eyebrows raised. “The flock? Who is the flock?” Her voice was mirthful.

“Me and Thor. He’s got you all to himself, that’s what I mean,” Jane said. “He invited you to move in, he got us to move out without you, he doesn’t like any of our apartment choices, and--and he doesn’t want me calling you on the phone during your special dinner!” she finished triumphantly, as if she’d made a specific point. 

“Okay, you’re reaching,” Darcy said, trying not to giggle. “I call you on the phone every night! We text all the time!” She started to laugh.

“But he wanted your attention last night,” Jane said firmly, nodding to herself. “I’m surprised he’s not the one taking you to lunch.”

“I’m surrounded by crazy people,” Darcy muttered to herself. 

“You just wait!” Jane said. 

“Okay,” Darcy said slowly. She was answering Jane’s emails--conference presentations yes, interviews about Thor, no--when Angela called to say she was waiting downstairs. 

* * *

“I really am sorry, honey,” Angela said to her. They were sitting at an Asian fusion restaurant near the office. “I didn’t know you’d be upset.”

“Mmmm. Oh, no, it’s okay!” Darcy said, in the middle of a veggie gyoza. She swallowed. “We’re fine, we’re fine. Really. I thought it was funny,” she confided.

“You did?” Angela said, brightening.

“I threw some of the rose petals at Brock,” she told Angela. “And he threatened to return me to Jane.” Angela started to laugh.

“He likes you,” she said. “I knew it.”

“We’re good friends,” Darcy said. Friends had sex. Sometimes. Right? She looked at Angela and tried to do the kindest thing. “I don’t think you’re going to get what you’re hoping for with me, though.”

“What am I hoping for?” Angela asked.

“Grandchildren?” Darcy said. “Brock says you really want some.”

“Oh!” Angela said. She waved her hands and looked momentarily nonplussed. Finally she sighed. “Yes. I do want grandkids.” She shook her head. “He refuses to settle down. So, I’m going to have to lean on his sister,” she said, smiling gently.

“You never know, he could meet someone,” Darcy said, trying to be optimistic. “Your rose petals could come in handy sometime?” Angela laughed brightly.

“I still need to do something for you,” she said. “Why don’t we go shopping tonight? I can pick you up from work?” Angela had gotten a rental car yesterday and driven them to lunch today.

“Sure,” Darcy said, thinking that she could just tag along. “It’s been ages since I’ve been shopping for fun,” she admitted. She didn’t usually shop for fun. Jane disliked it, so Darcy mostly shopped for food and new flannel shirts. She explained that to Angela.

“You’re kidding!” Angela said. “Honey, how do you live? Sleeping on couches and no shopping?” Darcy laughed.

“It’s called being poor,” she joked. “I interned forever.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be now,” Angela said.

“I’m doing okay,” Darcy said, shrugging. “I’m happy to have health insurance.” Angela looked at her sympathetically. Then she wondered something. “Why’d you say you got an Uber yesterday?” Angela looked like she’d been caught.

“It sounded better?” she offered, shrugging both of her shoulders and making a face that Darcy recognized. “What can you do?” she said.

“Oh my God,” she said slowly. “Brock gets that face from you!”

* * *

“Where’s Darcy?” Brock asked Jane. He looked at her chair as if it was odd she wasn’t there. It almost made Jane giggle. Thor got that perplexed look if he forgot where he put Mjolnir. 

“She went shopping with your mother,” Jane said.

“What?” he said.

“She wanted Darcy to go shopping after work,” Jane said slowly. 

“They went shopping?” he said, looking confused.

“Yup,” Jane said. “You just missed them by, um, ten minutes.”

“Shit,” Brock said.

“She’s very nice,” Jane added.

“Huh?” he said.

“Your mom. I met her,” Jane said. “Thor lifted her like Baby in _Dirty Dancing._ Darcy got photos.”

“Seriously?” he said. He stood there for a moment, rubbing his jaw. Jane tapped commands into her laptop. Brock’s phone dinged. He looked at it. “She sent them to me,” he said, staring at the screen. He started to type.

“What do you think?” Jane asked. “They’re fun, right?”

“Huh?” he said.

“The photos?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Ma’s hilarious,” he said. “I was just asking Darcy where they were.”

“A mall or something, I think?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” he said. “They’re at a mall.” He grinned at his screen. 

“What?” Jane said. 

“Ma is trying to spend money on Darcy,” he said. “She’s rebelling. I’m getting dueling text messages.”

“That’s very nice of your mother,” Jane said. “I like your mother.”

“Foster, who do you think gives my mother her shopping allowance?” he said dryly. Jane tilted her head, thinking sarcastic thoughts. He was so infatuated with Darcy! How could she not see it?

“So, you’re a one man charity foundation?” Jane said archly. “Your mother gets an allowance, Darcy gets an apartment. Do you give out grants, too?” 

  
  


* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to try on some shoes, honey?” Angela said, scrutinizing her feet in a pair of high heels. She was a shoe person, she’d told Darcy. 

“No, thank you,” Darcy said. “I really just wear boots.” They were surrounded by shopping bags and shoe boxes. Angela had confided that Brock gave her what she called “fun money” to shop, visit him, and go to dinner and shows in New York. “He’s a very good son,” Darcy said, looking at the bags and shoe boxes.

“You are sweet,” Angela said. “It’s a real shame you aren’t dating him.” She wiggled her toes. “The red or the leopard?”

“I feel like you’re a leopard person,” Darcy decided. She’d also decided not to respond to any statements about whether or not she should be dating Brock. Jane was already hinting around. Jane and Angela in combination would be entirely too powerful an entity. 

“You really don’t like shopping for clothes or shoes?” Angela said, voice sad. “You’re so pretty and you have such a beautiful figure, it’s a shame not to show it off.”

“I just like sweaters and leggings?” Darcy said. Angela shook her head, but then her expression shifted.

“But you like pajamas,” Angela said. “Come on, I can’t buy all these things and have you come home empty handed. How would I look?” she said. “Like the wicked witch! We’ll go find you pajamas.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, laughing. She helped Angela gather her bags and check out in the shoe section, then they went upstairs to another level of the store. Darcy was thumbing through racks of pjs with kittens on them when Angela disappeared. Her phone rang. It was Brock. “Hello?” she said.

“I was calling to request proof of life,” he said dryly. “You okay? It’s been a few hours.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “But I think I’ve lost your mom somewhere.”

“Look for her in the most resource-rich section. She shops the way empires invade smaller countries,” he said. “It’s usually the fine jewelry.”

“Her method does have a distinct conquistador vibe,” Darcy said, smiling. “She told me that emeralds were her favorite.” 

“Oh, yeah. Emeralds, diamonds, all the shiny rocks,” Brock said. He sounded fine. Good, even. Like he was relaxed. 

“Thank you for not mentioning, um, recent events to her,” Darcy whispered. He chuckled. 

“What?” he said. “You think I’m crazy? She’d be slipping fertility herbs in your coffee and planning a gender-reveal party for three-hundred people.”

“Three-hundred, huh?” she said.

“I’ve got a lot of cousins,” he said. “When you coming home?”

“I don’t know, I need to find her,” Darcy said, “thank God we got a shopping cart.”

“Just one?” he said.

“Oh, wait, I see her,” Darcy said. Angela was in the lingerie. Darcy stopped. “She got a second cart,” she told Brock. “It’s half-full.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.

“Haha,” Darcy said sarcastically.

“She usually decides it’s time to leave when they start turning the lights off and turning them on again,” he said. “After the second announcement.”

* * *

“Hey,” Brock said, as they walked in the apartment. He was sitting on the couch, waiting up for them. It was almost ten o'clock.

“Hi,” Darcy said. It felt like she hadn’t seen him in forever. She stood awkwardly for a second, unsure of what to do. He came over and took the bags out of her hands. "Thanks."

“We have food,” Angela said, setting the bags on the table. 

“Did you drag Darcy everywhere?” he said. 

“Not quite everywhere--” Darcy said.

“But almost!” Angela said gleefully. “I’m putting these in his bedroom, honey.” She bustled into the master bedroom, carrying multiple bags.

“You okay?” he whispered to Darcy, grinning.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, yawning. “She bought me presents.” She felt tired, actually. And hungry. She and Angela had closed down a department store, gone to Starbucks, and finally tromped back to Brock’s with takeout. The three of them sat down to eat. Well, Darcy ate, Angela talked, and Brock picked at his steamed veggies and grinned at them.

“All right,” Brock said, when Darcy yawned for the third time over her carton, “you can eat in bed, sweetheart.”

“Eat in bed?” Angela said.

“She’s exhausted, you can’t just take her on one of your Bataan shopping marches, she’s not used to that,” he said. He stood up and started picking up the Chinese boxes. 

“Really?” Darcy said, delighted. She told Angela goodnight and followed him into the bedroom. There was a pile of boxed and wrapped items on his bed. He moved them.

“What are they?” Brock said.

“I have no idea,” she said. “She got them gift wrapped, so it would be a surprise.”

“Food, then presents?” he said. 

“Yes,” Darcy said. She took off her shoes and flopped into bed.

“Not even taking her clothes off, she means business,” he said dryly. He took off his boots and lay next to her, propped up on pillows, with the TV remote. She was conscious of his eyes.

“Hey,” Darcy said, stabbing broccoli with her fork, “why don’t you open one?” He wasn’t eating, so he had clean hands. And it was weird, the way he kept looking at her as she ate, between channel-surfing.

“Me?” Brock said

“Yeah,” she said. “Shit, I’m so going to spill food in your bed.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said, getting up. He stood over the boxes. “Which one?” he asked. 

“Shake some,” she joked, like it was Christmas. He laughed, but shook a few boxes.

“They’re light and quiet,” he said.

“They might be pajamas,” Darcy said. “That one?” She pointed her fork at the one in his hands. “Open that one.”

“All right,” he said. She watched as he carefully tore the edges of the paper. Then he tried to get in the box. “Fuck.”

“The sides are probably taped,” Darcy said. He bent fluidly and retrieved something shiny from his boots. “You carry knives in your shoes?” she said, eyes wide.

“It’s a tac knife,” Brock said, cutting the tape. He put the knife back in his boots, then opened the box. His expression changed. “Jesus,” he said.

“What is it?” Darcy asked, sitting up a little. She couldn’t see into the box. He reached in and held something up in the light. 

“Pajamas, huh?” he said. 

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. It was a transparent red chemise, edged with lace. 

“Nice color,” Brock said in a wry voice. 


	11. Good Morning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I’m going to talk to her,” Brock said grimly, still holding the lingerie. He turned.

“No, wait,” Darcy said, “I want to open the rest of them first. Don’t manhandle my unmentionables, Commander.”

“Oh,” he said, looking at the item in his hand. He’d sort of crumpled it. Darcy got up, washed her hands in the bathroom sink, and then made a big show of straightening it out and fussily putting it in the box. “I’ll get her to stop,” Brock said, as she sat on the end of the bed, gift box in her lap. He was pacing at the foot of the bed. Darcy laughed. That seemed to startle him. He stared at her. “You think this is funny? She’s buying you this stuff hoping--” he began, then paused and swallowed. She sat the chemise aside.

“It’ll get your attention?” Darcy said, unwrapping the next box. She tilted her head, feeling a bubble of amusement. “Little does she know! Unless she’s just buying that for my next boyfriend? That’s a possibility. That these are for him--don’t scoff,” she told him. “Give me your badass guy knife?”

“No,” he said.

“No?” Darcy said, arching an eyebrow.

“You’ll cut yourself,” he said. “It’s sharp. I’ll do it.”

“Okay, do that one,” she said, passing him another white clothing box.

“Your next boyfriend, huh?” Brock said. “You got somebody lined up I should know about?”

“Hmmm,” she said, tilting her head, “nobody in particular, but you think Cap would enjoy that nightgown?” 

“Very funny,” Brock said in a low voice. He cut the package open, frowning.

“I could probably ask your mom to help me find patriotic panties,” she said cheerfully. 

“You’re baiting me,” he said. 

“Okay, sure,” Darcy said, wiggling her eyebrows. They both peered into the box. Inside was a silk pajama set in a deep purple. “Awesome, I can lay around in these all day, being fancy.”

“Like Hugh Hefner?” Brock cracked. They did sort of look like a girly version of Hef’s signature look.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, “he was creepy and these are fabulous. Don’t insult your mother. Let’s open more.” Each box had something cuter inside. There were several cotton sets in cute patterns, similar to what she normally wore around the apartment. She liked all of them. “Oooh,” Darcy said, finding a multi-patterned silk robe in one box. “This is very glam. It looks like this one I loved at Anthro that was entirely too spendy.” She put it on over her clothes. “I like it,” she said, swishing her arms. She could Stevie Nicks in this, she thought. When she looked at Brock, he was smiling. “What?” Darcy said.

“You like them,” Brock said.

“Yes,” she said. 

“She’s going to be fucking impossible when she finds out,” he said, smirking. 

“I get to decide what I want to wear tonight,” Darcy said, shimmying happily. 

“Do I get a vote?” Brock asked, reaching for the box with the red one inside. “Did I mention that it’s technically my money, too?” Darcy started to laugh.

“Now who’s relentless?” she said.

“I come by it honestly,” he said. 

“Give me that,” Darcy said. He handed it over. She got up and moved towards the bathroom. 

“You’re wearing it?” Brock said, sounding shocked.

“I guess you’ll find out,” Darcy said, shutting the door. She heard him swear and grinned to herself. He was into this, she thought. Did she want to have sex with him again? Yes, she really did. Her mind had drifted to him naked all day. Darcy wanted to explore his entire--amazing, incredible, astonishing--body. She changed into the chemise, feeling her heart beat rapidly. It fit perfectly, but it was revealing, too. But he was physically attracted to her, right? She studied her reflection, trying to slow down her heart. She didn’t want to sweat all over her new lingerie. Darcy took a deep breath and opened the door again. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, stripped down to his boxers. He looked up at her and his eyes widened. 

“Shit,” he said. 

“Good, huh?” she said, leaning against the door frame. He smiled slowly and held his hands out to her. 

“C’mere.” His voice was warm. His hands were warm, too, holding hers and guiding her towards him. There was something appealing in the gesture. Brock’s eyes traced up and down her body. “It’s really good,” he said, using a voice she hadn’t heard before. It did things to her, that voice. All raspy and masculine. Darcy practically melted into his arms. She hadn’t kissed him last night, but he tilted his chin up eagerly, chasing her mouth. 

“Oh,” Darcy said, face close to his. “We’re kissing?” She was slightly puzzled. He didn’t seem like a romantic guy, not really. Not the kissing type. But he wanted to kiss her? Kissing was intimate.

“Yeah, we are,” he said, eyes locked on hers. It was intense. Darcy took a deep, slightly nervous breath. His lips touched her mouth softly. She closed her eyes and leaned in. His stubble was pleasurably rough against her face, his mouth searching. The tension ebbed out of her body, replaced by pooling warmth at her core. It was easy to relax into the kiss with her eyes closed. Her fingers splayed across his sternum. Everything about him was solid and strong: his arms, the planes of his chest, and even the thighs she was resting on. He sucked gently at her top lip, and she realized he’d made a low sound. 

“Hmmm,” Darcy said, opening her eyes for a minute. He was still looking at her.

“Yeah?” Brock said.

“You’re so strong,” she said softly, face close to his. Her lips brushed against his cheek, then his nose, and finally his mouth. He grinned lazily and kissed her again. This time, it was a more intense, urgent kiss. His hands palmed at her waist, pulling her in closer, then dug in her skin, pushing up the chemise. She heard the fabric seam snap a little. “Ohhh,” Darcy breathed out. He chuckled. “You’re in trouble,” she murmured.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Tell your next boyfriend I’m sorry,” he said dryly. Darcy giggled. He pulled at her underwear. “Let’s get you out of these?” Brock offered.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” Darcy said. He smirked and nodded, then rolled her over onto the bed with a quick, silent motion. “Ohhh,” Darcy said happily.

“Shhh,” he whispered, sliding down her underwear and climbing on top of her. He got a condom out of the nightstand and she watched him put it on. He caught her. “See something good?” he whispered. 

“Mmmm-hmm,” she said. He pried the lingerie off carefully, then leaned in for another long kiss and put her glasses on the nightstand. His face was close to hers. He stared at her, pupils dilated. Darcy had to close her eyes again. His heated gaze made her want to moan, respond, touch him everywhere, like she was desperate to have him. It was difficult to be quiet when you really wanted to make noise, Darcy thought, pressing her mouth against his shoulder as he started to move. He rocked against her, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She moaned in response and he shushed her, laughing. 

“Hush baby,” he said, nuzzling her mouth.

“Nuh-uh,” she said back, half-joking. “Can’t--ohhhhh.” Her attitude seemed to spur him on. He was more aggressive with her than he’d been the night before, thrusts rough and eager. He pushed her almost to climax, then rolled his hips back. She made a dismayed noise, but then he chuckled, sliding his hand between her legs.

“Feel good?” he asked in a low voice. His thumb stroked her clit. She was lit up, she thought dazedly, as her body shuddered in response. It was like little zaps of electricity. Sexual sparks. Almost too intense to bear. 

“Oh God,” she said loudly, uncertain if she could stand it. 

“Shhh,” he said, kissing her breasts. Darcy shook her head almost frantically. He smirked, then rolled his body onto hers. “Shhh,” he repeated, beginning to move his hips again. She tried to muffle her desperate, needy sounds. She wanted more of him, more of everything. Darcy realized she was babbling, trying to keep her voice low. She begged him.

“More, more,” she said breathlessly, clinging to him until she came with a shudder. Her hips jerked. The motion seemed to push him towards his own edge. Darcy was vaguely aware of him swearing, but she’d gone all soft and dreamy, eyes focused on his face.

“Baby,” Brock said. “Baby.” Darcy opened her eyes slowly. The sparking in her core was fading slowly. He was looking at her, expression serious. 

“Yeah?” she said, feeling slightly disoriented. She didn’t want to move her limbs. They’d gone soft and weak underneath him. She was weightless and floating now. She could be anywhere. “Hey,” she said. Darcy closed her eyes again, smiling.

“Baby.”

“Mmm?” she said. 

“We should talk,” he said.

“Tomorrow,” she sighed out tucking her face against his chest. “Can’t talk now,” she whispered. “You fucked my brains out, roomie.” Vaguely, she heard him start to laugh. 

“Okay, baby,” Brock said.

* * *

When she woke up, they were curled together, facing each other. He reached over to silence his alarm and turned back to her. The contours of his face were fuzzy. “Hey,” Brock said. “Morning.” She had to clamor over him for her glasses. He chuckled as her boobs pressed into his bicep.

“Gotcha,” Darcy said to her glasses, realizing it was still early. She wiggled back into her spot in the bed and smiled at him. “Good morning,” Darcy said. She reached over and tousled his hair, grinning at him. “You look cute all sleepy,” she said. 

“I’m old,” Brock said, voice raspy. 

“Yeah?” Darcy said. “No.” She shook her head. “Disagree.” She shifted closer to him and put an arm around his waist. “You are very cute,” she told him. “Totally cute.” 

“I try,” he said, pretending to pout, then grinning.

“We should probably put clothes on, before your mom catches us sneaking around,” Darcy said, leaning into kiss him. “You know how it is,” she added, nuzzling his face a little. 

“How?” he said.

“You gotta sneak to sneak around?” she said, giggling. She felt so good. She told him, a little nervously. “I feel good, Brock,” she said, sighing. “Really good.” He looked at her, expression unreadable.

“Yeah? Good,” he said, kissing her again. They stayed in bed another twenty minutes, kissing and cuddling and making love sleepily again. Darcy didn’t want to get up. He got up first. “I gotta go to the gym,” he told her. She caught him smirking.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Nothing,” he said. She thought he was looking at her lingerie, discarded on the bed. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” she said. Darcy listened to him leave, then slept until her alarm went off. She was making coffee when Angela emerged from the other bedroom. “Hi!” Darcy said, “good morning. Did you want coffee?”

“Yes,” Angela said, yawning. She looked a little tired.

“I love my new pajamas,” Darcy said. “Thank you.” That made Angela brighten up.

“You opened them?” she said.

“Yup, last night.” Darcy passed her a cup. “The robe is my favorite.”

“I’m glad you like it. Where’s Brock?” Angela said.

“The gym, hitting things probably,” Darcy joked. 

“Oh,” Angela said. She looked disappointed.

* * *

“Why are you calling me at the crack of dawn?” Fallon said. Angela had gone back into Darcy’s room.

“It’s seven-fifteen,” Angela said. She sighed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Go home,” Fallon said. Them her voice grew canny. “What did you do?” she asked.

“I got her lingerie and pajamas, she likes pajamas,” Angela said.

“Oh my God, you didn’t!” Fallon said.

“It’s not like it did anything,” Angela said. “What does you brother do? Invites her to eat noodles in bed!”

“He did not,” Fallon said. “He’s too much of a neat freak.”

“He did,” Angela said. “I listen at the door and they’re just talking and he’s channel surfing. Ten minutes of clicking and blaring ESPN--”

“You hate that,” Fallon cut in. “The way men channel surf.”

“It drives me crazy. I don’t know how Darcy stands it. So, I went to bed. He was already at the gym when I got up.”

“Give up, Ma,” Fallon said. 

“I thought I heard noises last night, but when I got up, I accidentally ran into the chair,” Angela confided. “So, I went back and tried to listen through the wall, but nothing.”

“Rookie mistake,” Fallon said. Angela could hear her moving around. 

“What are you doing?” she said aloud.

“Looking for my damn shoes,” Fallon said. “I know I left them somewhere.”

“Did you drink last night?” Angela said, voice sharpening.

“Would it better if I lost my shoes sober?” Fallon asked.

“It’s a weekday!” Angela said.

“So? I’m a free woman with my own establishment,” Fallon said.

“Where do you come up with these things?” Angela said, shaking her head.


	12. Exciting News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I’ve got exciting news,” Jane said, as soon as she walked into the lab. Darcy looked up. She and Brock had carpooled into work together.

“You had a breakthrough?” Darcy asked, standing up to get Jane coffee. That was when she noticed Jane already had a cup of coffee in her hand. “You got your own coffee?” Darcy said.

“I’ve been up since Natasha called me,” Jane said.

“Natasha Romanoff?” Darcy said. She knew the redheaded Avenger by sight; they’d crossed paths at a few events in New York and DC. Darcy knew Natasha traveled a lot, spitting her time between the two cities. 

“Yes!” Jane said, excited. She was almost yelling. She yelled when she was excited. Darcy grinned at her beaming face. “Well, you know how I told you that she and Bruce Banner maybe have a thing?” Jane said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

“Well, a friend of Bruce’s has a huge house he wants to sublet while he does a longterm field project!” Jane said. “Isn’t that great?”

“What?” Darcy said, feeling stunned. She sat down.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked.

“Nothing, it’s great news,” Darcy said. “That’s good news.”

“You’re okay?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Darcy lied. Even she didn’t believe it. Jane looked at her, tilting her head. 

“If you want to live with Brock, you still can,” she said. “He’s giving us a really good rate for this place, so…”

“That good a rate?” Darcy said, unwilling to talk about her feelings for Brock. What she felt was upset. And slightly sick with anxiety. “Why?” she asked.

“I dunno, Bruce says it’s a really amazing house, but he has a hard time renting it and only wants academic tenants?” Jane said. “We can go check it out this week?”

“Okay,” Darcy said slowly. She returned to her emails. How would she tell Brock? What would she tell Brock? _I really like having sex with you and I’d like to stay?_ That would never work, she thought, sighing heavily. 

“Are you upset about leaving Brock?” Jane said. “Because you don’t have to--”

“No,” Darcy lied. “It’s not about him. I was just wondering---why can’t this guy find good academic tenants in DC? There are tons of universities, just full of broke grad students and lecturers, right?” 

“So many,” Jane said, frowning. She started counting them off on her fingers. “George Washington, Howard, Georgetown, CUA, George Mason in Virginia….”

“Weird,” Darcy said. Jane was still listing nearby colleges. She was on Maryland now. 

* * *

Darcy was getting something out of the supply closet when the door opened. “I’m looking for the notebook you like,” she told Jane. She’d gone to talk to someone in R&D. But it wasn’t Jane. “Hey,” a male voice said, surprising Darcy. She turned. It was Brock.

“Oh, I thought you w--” she began, but her words were cut off when he kissed her. His arms went around her waist eagerly. For a moment, Darcy let herself melt against him. Then she remembered where she was. She pulled back. “Brock,” she said, before he kissed her another time. “Brock,” she repeated.

“Yeah?” he said, voice warm. “Been thinking about fucking you all day.” Darcy swallowed, turned on by the heat in his voice.

“Jane will hear us,” she said, purposefully looking at his collarbone. She needed to tell him about the house. “I don’t know when she’ll be back,” Darcy added.

“Yeah? So? I’ve heard her have sex.” He pulled her in closer. “I’ve got bad news, though,” he said, hands squeezing her.

“What?” she said.

“My mother wants to go to one of those drink and paint classes for chicks tonight,” he said. “But she’s given up on yentaing us, that’s the good news. She’s leaving this week.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, flicking her eyes to his face. He was grinning down at her, gaze lustful. “I’ll miss your mom.”

“You can visit her at Christmas,” he joked, kissing Darcy again. It felt so good. She’d never liked kissing anybody this much. Or fucking them. It was hard for her to pull back, pushing on his chest. “What?” he said, pants already undone.

“Jane--” she said, wanting to say _has found a house,_ but chickening out at the last moment. “Jane might want to go to chick painting class,” she finished.

“Great, we’ll all go,” he said, smiling as he kissed her. He pried at her leggings and lifted her so she was clinging to the wall of shelving. 

“Oh, shit,” she said, realizing it wouldn’t support her weight. It wobbled dangerously.

“You okay?” he said. She shook her head.

“It’s unstable. Get me down so I can turn around,” she told him. He helped her down, then slid her onto her feet. He was smirking. “Don’t look so smug,” Darcy said, turning so she could lean against the wall instead. She looked over her shoulder. He was staring at her ass. “Hurry,” Darcy said, “before Jane gets back.” 

“Yeah,” he said, gaze intense.

"Hurry, hurry," she repeated.

* * *

“You look so cute together!” Angela was telling Jane, as they painted. Thor had decided he wanted to go, too. He beamed at Brock’s mother. “You’re so pretty and intelligent and he’s so handsome and--and royal.” Her voice was a little breathless.

“Thank you,” Thor said, nodding gravely. He was working on a painting of an elephant. Next to Darcy, Brock snickered. 

“Shhh,” she said. He grinned at her and wiggled his eyebrows. He was in a mood tonight. They’d almost been caught by Jane having sex in the supply closet and then Brock had spent the afternoon being weirdly obvious, Darcy thought. Touching her thigh at lunch in SHIELD’s cafeteria, rubbing her back, even holding her hand as they walked inside the paint and sip studio. They were the last people going in, but still. Did he want his mother to see them? She looked at him. He was probably sloshed. His elephant was a little messy. Or this was part of his entire sneaky undercover side---he enjoyed being right on the edge of getting caught. The whole highwire act. That would make sense. 

“You’re doing a great job, baby,” Brock said, grinning.

“Are you messing with me?” Darcy said. Her elephant’s ears were wonky.

“No,” he said. “Why would I be messing with you?” 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I thought you were sarcasming me. His ears are weird--” she was saying when he waved a hand.

“Nah, I’d never insult your elephant. You want some more wine?” he offered. They’d brought their own case of her favorite, a bubbly white called New Age.

“Sure,” Darcy said. He was already getting up to refill his own glass. “Don’t sip too hard, though.” That made him laugh.

“I’m hard sippin, bitches,” he cracked, loud enough for Angela to hear.

“Are you celebrating me leaving? Because I can take a hint,” she said.

“Aww, c’mon, Ma,” Brock said. “You know I’m not. I’m just happily doing”--he looked at Darcy and smirked-- “cute little fucking elephants. Look at this adorable little fucker,” he said, sitting back down and turning his canvas to face his mother. He craned his head around the edge. “I think I love him,” Brock said. “I’m gonna hang him in the apartment.” He looked at Darcy. “Let’s hang yours and mine together, huh?” 

“Okay,” Darcy said, giving him a look.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, too loudly. “We got this.”

“Okay, you’re drunk,” Darcy told him, laughing. “I’m taking away your bubbly booze.”

“Nooo,” he said. “Don’t take it away.” He leaned back, laughing. He was so drunk. Darcy was so busy watching him, she missed Jane’s phone ringing.

“The day after tomorrow?” Jane said into her cell phone. “All right, great! Four o’clock.” 

“Who was that?” Angela asked, when she hung up. “You sound happy.”

“Well, uh, we’re looking at renting a house from a friend of a friend of Natasha’s,” Jane said diplomatically.

“You found a place?” Angela said, more loudly. That drew Brock’s attention.

“What?” he said. He looked at Darcy. “You’re looking at somewhere without telling me?”

“We haven’t even seen it yet,” Darcy said quickly.

“And Darcy doesn’t have to move,” Jane added.

“Are you going to?” Angela said, sounding sad. Darcy didn’t know where to look or what to say.

“Um,” Darcy said. “I don’t know.” Brock stood up. “Where are you going?” she said.

“Mens room,” he said, not looking at her. He stomped off. She stared.

“He doesn’t want you to go,” Angela said. 

“Are you sure about that?” Darcy said, uncertain. She couldn’t believe he wanted her to stay as much as she wanted to stay. Darcy absolutely wanted to stay. She stared at her elephant’s wonky ears and tried to suppress her feelings. _I’m calm, I’m calm,_ she told herself, until Brock emerged from the bathroom and her heart did a weird thing. He wasn’t looking at her, but at a point somewhere over her shoulder, grimacing. He came back and sat down heavily. “Hey,” Darcy said.

“Where’d my fucking wine go?” Brock said.

“It’s right there,” she said, put off by his tone. They painted in silence. Well, mostly silence. Brock sighed heavily. He kept making faces and sighing while not looking at her. On his third or fourth sigh, Darcy put her paintbrush down and glared at him.

“What?” he said.

“You’re sulking,” she said.

“No, I’m not,” Brock said.

“You are!” Darcy said. “I haven’t even moved out and you’re sulking!”

“So, you’re moving out?” he said bluntly. 

“No,” Darcy said. “I mean, I don’t know! I didn’t want to move out, but you’re being a total b. Maybe I don’t want to live with a grown man who pouts and sulks!” 

“You think I’m a b? Me?” Brock said, tapping his chest and sounding a little like a drunk guy doing De Niro. His accent had gotten thicker. “What kind of a person has sex with somebody in a supply closet and then just moves out?” he said. Darcy made a sharp sound of surprise, then looked around and realized literally everyone in the paint and sip was staring at him: Jane, Angela, the employees, the party of nurses celebrating someone’s fiftieth birthday across the room, even Thor. 

“You had sex in my closet?” Jane said. “When?” The owner of the sip and paint looked at them in horror.

“Nevermind--” Darcy said, afraid she’d ask them to leave, as Brock spoke simultaneously.

“This afternoon!” he said. “What do you mean, nevermind? It happened. We’ve been having sex for days now,” he added, making it sound like they’d been at it like rabbits. He’d stressed the word days. Jane’s mouth dropped open. 

“You didn’t tell me?” she said.

“It’s just been a few days,” Darcy said, “it’s new!”

“She’s keeping me a secret, huh?” Brock said. He didn’t sound happy about it.

“I thought we were sneaking around,” Darcy said.

“Brock,” Angela said, “you’re making a scene.” Her voice was a little stern. She could turn the word scene into a mini-scolding. It was very impressive, Darcy thought, torn between surprise and confusion. 

“I don’t care,” he said morosely. He looked at Darcy, grimacing again. “I can’t believe you’re moving out.” Then it dawned on her.

“So, you don’t want me to move out?” she said, raising her eyebrows. The nurses were watching them avidly. 

“No,” he said. “I, uh, like you.” He rubbed his jaw.

“As a roommate?” she said, taking a stab at identifying what they were doing.

“Sure,” he said. “Of course.” Jane muffled a laugh. That got Brock's attention. “I'm good for her. You make her life more difficult with your hair ties and your papers,” he told the scientist, gesturing with his glass.

“Oh my God,” Angela said. The onlookers all seemed to lean forward curiously.

“I do? My hair ties?” Jane said. “You’re mad about my hair ties?” She looked at Darcy.

“No,” Darcy said. “You’re just messy. A little.” 

“That’s true,” Thor said evenly. Various women in the room smiled at him. Which was typical. Jane frowned.

“Oh,” she said.

“It’s just”--Darcy sighed--“the two of you are like large adult children sometimes. Living with Brock is like being on vacation,” Darcy admitted. “Even before we started sleeping together, I was really happy.” 

"Yeah?" Brock lit up a little and Thor nodded in agreement when Darcy spoke, but Jane looked offended.

“How? How am I like a large child?” Jane asked. 

“You leave shit everywhere,” Brock said, ticking off his fingers. “You make a lot of damn noise, you can’t do your own laundry, and the less said about the toilet seat--” he added. 

“I’m doing my own laundry now!” Jane said. 

“Aye,” Thor said, looking at the splatter of bleach spots on his flannel. “We have both, perhaps, been remiss in some things, but Jane improves everyday. She is doing very well.” He looked at Jane with a soft expression. He was very loyal, Darcy knew.

“Awww,” Angela breathed out, so quietly she barely audible. Jane shut her mouth, then opened it again.

“I’ve had a few accidents,” she admitted. Darcy started to giggle. “What?” Jane said.

“Three degrees and she can’t change her ringtone or do her laundry,” she said, between giggles. She grinned at Brock. He was beaming back at her. To her surprise, he reached over and rubbed her shoulders. 

“Move in with me?” he said, kissing the side of her face. 

“I already live with you,” Darcy said, grinning stupidly. They were staring at each other when Angela spoke.

“I listened at the door and I never heard anything,” she said, sounding half-delighted, half-puzzled.

“Ma,” Brock complained.

“I’m very sorry for all this drama,” Angela said, raising her voice and talking to the rest of the studio. Her voice was happy. She patted her pockets.

“What are you doing?” Brock asked his mother.

“Looking for my phone, I need to call your sister,” she said, finding the phone and standing up. “Finish your elephant,” his mother said. “It looks drunk.” She dialed as she walked to the studio’s front door and swung it open. Faintly, they heard her speak into the phone. “I’m going to be a grandmother!” she said gleefully.

“Huh,” Brock said. “Did she just--?”

“Yup,” Darcy and Jane said at the same time.

“Well, shit,” Brock said, as Thor got up and offered to sign autographs as an apology. He could be accidentally rude, but never on purpose. 

“I’m sure she doesn’t think I’m pregnant now,” Darcy said, squeezing Brock’s hand.

“I’m really fucking drunk,” Brock said. “Because that doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “maybe in a few years?” She leaned towards him for a kiss. “I’m drunk, too. A little bit.”

“Drunk in love,” Jane muttered. Darcy’s head swiveled in her direction.

“I was going to apologize for calling you a large child, but now I’m not,” Darcy said. “Just for that.” She stuck her tongue out. “Pfhhht!”

“Shut up,” Jane said, flicking paint at her. Darcy flicked some back. 

“You shut up,” Darcy said, without malice.

“They fight like my brother and I, only Darcy has never stabbed Jane,” Thor said, from several feet away. He was taking a selfie with one of the nurses and her elephant painting.

“Yet--but I can still borrow someone’s shoe knives,” Darcy said, making Brock laugh. 

“Shoe knives?” Jane said.

“It’s a big knife,” Darcy said. "He keeps it in his shoes."

“You are drunk,” Jane said.

“I can’t believe you never told her about my big knife,” Brock said. He smirked.

"It's a really big knife," Darcy said, giggling.


	13. The Last House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I’m very happy,” Angela told them from the backseat of Brock’s SUV as they took the Beltway. They’d all gone to breakfast and were dropping her off at the airport. “I want you two to have plenty of time alone.”

“Yes, Ma,” Brock said, corners of his mouth turning up. Darcy was busy sipping her coffee in the passenger seat and nodded along. They were both still feeling the effects of paint and sip; Brock had admitted that even he felt a smidge hungover. He’d felt well enough to hang their elephants in the apartment, however. That surprised her. He seemed to think they were cute. 

“Romance is important, your generation---” Angela began. 

“My generation?” Brock said. 

“You all sit around in sweatpants, watching the television, that’s not enough to keep romance alive,” his mother insisted. Darcy almost choked on her coffee.

“I don’t watch television,” Brock objected.

“I do,” Darcy said, feeling oddly gleeful.

“I don’t mean to criticize you, honey,” Angela said. Whenever she talked to Darcy, she made her voice honey sweet. Brock huffed a little. Darcy could tell he was a teensy bit jealous of her new role as his mother’s favorite. Personally, Darcy thought Angela was buttering her up to further her interest in grandchildren. She’d cooed over a baby at a neighboring table this morning and mysteriously talked Darcy into holding it. Somehow, she’d managed it and Darcy still wasn’t sure how. This must be how Brock learned to double agent, she thought. 

“She can do no wrong, huh?” he said.

“She’s too young to know these things,” Angela said defensively. Darcy looked back at Angela, grinning. “You’re older and you’re the man,” Angela added, waving her hand. “You’ve got to make sure Darcy feels appreciated--”

“I bought her a bagel,” Brock said slyly. His mother rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Angela said.

“But I love bagels and it was chocolate chip with cream cheese!” Darcy said. “The only thing better is a cheese danish, really.”

“See?” Brock said, glancing at his mother in the rearview mirror. “I’m very romantic. I got her the chocolate chip bagel.” Angela sighed.

“I’m glad you’ve found the one woman who can actually tolerate this kind of behavior,” Angela said. She shook her head. 

“I’m very lucky she has low standards,” Brock cracked.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, still drinking her coffee. “That’s true.”

“Hey!” he said. “You’re supposed to be on my side--”

“Oh, that’s good, honey,” Angela said. “Keep doing that. Keep him on his toes!” This time she waved both hands.

“I’ll try,” Darcy said.

“Try?” Brock said, giving her a frankly naughty look.

“Pffhht,” Darcy said. She made sure to hug Angela at the airport. 

“You come and visit me, we can shop,” Angela told her. “With his money.”

“That’s great, Ma,” Brock said sarcastically. But he was smiling when he hugged his mother, Darcy noticed. They watched as Angela waved and wheeled her suitcase inside. 

“I’m going to miss her,” Darcy said. “She’s fun.”

“She buys you fun pajamas,” Brock said, as they left the airport.

* * *

They had an uneventful day at work, except that Jane wanted them to go see Banner’s friend’s house after work. “What if we all move in together?” she offered. “Couldn’t Brock sublease his place?”

“What?” Brock said, failing to hide his horrified expression. Jane looked at him. Darcy attempted to cover.

“His mother thinks it’s important we have alone time this early in the relationship,” she said quickly. “That’s why she left this morning.”

“Oh,” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Ma--Ma knows. My parents were married forever.”

“Married?” Jane said cannily. “Is someone getting married?”

“Uhh. I’m going to get coffee,” Brock said. He practically bolted from the room.

“Jane!” Darcy objected. “You literally petrified a STRIKE commander!”

“Yes,” Jane said happily. “I still have the power to scare a jackbooted thug.” She raised a tiny fist.

“Just don’t hurt him,” Darcy said, “I still remember you kicking that guy in Puente Antiguo.” 

“Excuse me, my foot slipped when the other agent lifted me off the ground--”

“Because you threw yourself on your laptop,” Darcy added.

“So, I was trying to stand up, as my attorney told Coulson,” Jane finished. Darcy stood up. “Where are you going?” Jane asked.

“I’m checking on Brock!” Darcy said. Jane giggled. “You sounded exactly like a creepy doll. Like Chucky!” Darcy said, pointing as she left the lab. She found Brock in the breakroom. He half glanced back as she entered; he was pouring coffee into a cup. “I’m sorry Jane scared you,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“Huh?” he said.

“She’s just messing around, talking about marriage to get in your head,” Darcy said, resting her face against the space between his shoulder blades.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said happily. He smelled so good. She wiggled closer. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You do want to, right?” Brock asked.

“Hmm?” Darcy asked.

“Get married? I mean, sometime?” he said. She felt floored--literally, she held onto him a little tighter, she was so stunned. 

“Uhhh, yeah? I guess?” Darcy said tentatively.

“You wanted to marry the British guy,” Brock said, sounding stubborn.

“Well, I mean, he asked and we were together and I couldn’t exactly think of a reason to say no, even though we had issues, I mean, real issues,” Darcy said, babbling a little. “You and I don’t have issues like that,” she added. “He and I fought about everything. I mean, he listened to these terrible podcasts and wouldn’t let me play music at night and then he had this vegan phase and I had to clean out the tofu culture tray and I hated his natural deodorant--”

“His deodorant?”

“It did not work, let me tell you,” Darcy said, laughing. “You don’t stink and we never fight--well, except for last night, when you thought I was moving out, but I’m not. Moving out.”

“Yeah,” he said. He half looked at her and smirked. “I guess I’m not the only one that Jane scared, huh?” Brock’s expression was wry.

“Nooo,” Darcy said, intensely relieved he wasn’t mad. They grinned at each other. “I mean, I’m not _that_ scared.”

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“I’m not!” she insisted. 

“I saw your face when Ma hoisted that baby into your lap,” he said. “You were scared then.”

“Yeah. How does she do it?” Darcy wondered.

“Sheer determination,” Brock said. 

* * *

“We’re meeting Jane at the house,” Darcy told Brock as they finished dinner. They’d snuck out for Thai at a place near work.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Don’t sound so thrilled,” she teased, putting down her phone. 

“I just want us to be alone,” he grumbled. It was very cute. On impulse, she reached across the small table and pinched his nose. “What are you doing?” he said.

“Messing around,” Darcy said back. “You want dessert?” It was clearly a joke, but his eyes lit up.

“I got ideas about that,” he said, “but they’re at home ideas.” He took her hand over the table. 

“Okay,” Darcy said happily. “So, we should get this security check over with and get home?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got an address,” she said. The house was somewhere in McLean, Virginia. “I have a feeling this place might be swank. Jackie Kennedy grew up in a mansion in McLean.”

“I don’t care how nice it is, privacy is goddamn priceless,” Brock said, leaning down to kiss her knuckles gently.

“Awwww.”

  
  


The trip took them about thirty minutes via the George Washington Memorial Parkway. “This is the address?” Brock said, as they reached a wrought iron gate in a tall gray stone fence. They’d gone to the end of a street lined with huge, old houses. Darcy caught glimpses of expensive cars in driveways and nicely landscaped lawns. From the lights inside one, she could see a red-painted dining room as they drove slowly. It seemed impossibly luxurious for Jane and Thor. Everything was prettily blue as the sun set. She was halfway tempted to make Jay Gatsby jokes.

“Yeah. You think this house is so nice, that’s why this guy has tenant trouble?” Darcy mused. “I hope he doesn’t think Thor is a fancy prince.”

“He’s in for a surprise,” Brock said. “I’ll see how this gate opens.” It looked authentically old; there was no mechanism. In fact, Darcy realized, the wrought iron was a little rusty in the beams of Brock’s headlights. Humidity, probably. Brock got out and opened the gate.

“Is Jane there?” Darcy asked, when he got back in the car.

“I dunno,” he said, frowning. “You can’t see the house, there’s all these fucking trees along the driveway.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, “like a live oak allée?” He frowned at her.

“A what?” 

“In the south, they used to plant live oaks along the drive at old houses, it’s a thing. Jane and I saw one at Brookgreen Gardens once. I made her go outside. It’s very picturesque,” she added.

“This don’t seem picturesque,” Brock said. “Not at all.” 

“Okay,” Darcy said slowly. The car eased forward. She understood what he meant immediately. The gravel driveway was thickly lined with dense trees. They weren’t pretty old oaks, either. “Odd,” Darcy said. “Those are cypresses. People plant them for screening, but not this close.”

“It’s fucking weird, is what it is,” Brock said.

“You’re just against this on principle,” Darcy sassed him as they drove. “This is a long driveway, though.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, as the trees stopped and they had to make an abrupt left. Darcy looked up. The house was slightly elevated, some ten feet away from them. “Holy shit,” Brock said. “It’s the Addams Family house.”

“I was thinking haunted house,” Darcy said. “But yours is better.” 

“No shit,” he said. The house--it was really a mansion--was made of grey stone. An ominous-looking tower rose over the porch. The rest of the house was set back, but the darkened windows gave it a distinctly horror movie vibe. Thor and Jane weren’t there yet. 

“What do we do?” Darcy said. “Jane has the keys.”

“We turn around and get the fuck outta here,” Brock said. He’d put the car in reverse when Darcy saw the lights from Jane’s Corolla. 

“There she is,” Darcy said. “We’re saying no to this, right?”

“Hell yes,” Brock said grimly. He still looked like he wanted to make a break for it. He opened his car door, then looked at Darcy. “Watch your step, okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. She stepped out of the car and waved at Jane and Thor. “Hi!”

“It’s huge!” Jane yelled, as she hopped out of the car.

“I ain’t living here,” Brock muttered, as Thor got out, too. Both of them seemed okay, but Darcy was dubious. The appearance of of shabbiness accelerated as they climbed the porch. “Watch your step,” Brock repeated. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. Jane was chatting excitedly.

“We’ll have tons of space!” she said, attempting to unlock the door. Even the keys looked old. “These are sticking a little, but he said in his voicemail that there’s a trick. He’s already gone.”

“Already gone as in dead?” Darcy cracked, as Thor moved over to help Jane with the lock.

“He’s on a field research trip,” Jane said. 

“What does this guy do?” Brock said. “How’d he end up friends with Banner?”

“They met when Bruce was dealing with his Hulk stuff, he’s a zoologist,” Jane said. “This is his late wife’s family’s house--”

“She’s dead, huh?” Brock said dryly. He and Darcy exchanged glances.

“They’re elderly!” Jane scolded. “You’re both terrible--” She pushed the door open and felt for the light switch in the foyer, as they stepped over the threshold. “Where are you--ah ha!” Jane said. The lights came on with a flicker. To the left was a hall, with patterned carpet in a dark color, to the right a tall staircase that ascended into darkness above. But Darcy was distracted by all the other items on display. She jumped when she saw her reflection in one of those mirrored hall stands.

“A zoologist, huh? That explains--” Brock said.

“All the taxidermy,” Darcy said, dragging her eyes away from a pair of glass eyed crows. It was creepy. The walls were covered with the mounted heads of various animals. There was something large and dark and looming at the end of the hall. “Is that a bear?” she said, stepping closer to Brock.

“Looks like it,” he said, as Jane went into the room off the hall, with Thor behind her. He seemed calm, Darcy thought.

“Should we leave?” she whispered.

“We can’t, they’re blocking us in,” Brock said.

“It’s an SUV,” Darcy pointed out.

“Who’s scared again?” he teased. Instead of leaving, they followed Jane and Thor. Each room was full of dark antique furniture and more dead animals. Jane seemed happy, though. “I don’t get it,” Brock said, staring at some sort of weird deer’s head.

“She’s cheap,” Darcy said. “Let’s go see the murder kitchen. It might be the most creepy one we’ve seen together.”

“The old man probably murdered his wife,” Brock said in a low voice.

“She’s up in the attic, stuffed like that bear,” Darcy said. He visibly shuddered.

“I fucking hate taxidermy,” he muttered, as they found the kitchen. It was all pale green tiles. “Oh great, it looks like the kitchen in an old mental hospital.”

“Oooh, you’re right!” Darcy said, finally starting to laugh. It was less funny when they found rat traps in the pantry. “Gross, ew, ick.” She practically jumped into Brock’s embrace.

“My place is looking good, huh?” he said.

“Can we go home now?” Darcy said. He nodded. Above them, she heard a thump. Jane and Thor were investigating upstairs.

“Just leave ‘em up there?” Brock said.

“I’ll call her on the phone, tell her we’re going,” Darcy said. “I don’t want to yell.”

“Like anybody would hear you--” he said, peering inside a cabinet and recoiling. He reached for Darcy and began towing her out of the kitchen. “You don’t want to see how old this stuff is.”

“Jane, we’re going to go--” Darcy began, when Jane picked up. She was telling Darcy excitedly about the bedroom she'd picked upstairs but volunteered Thor to move the car. “Thor will come down to move the car. He’s in the attic,” Darcy told Brock.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve gotta test the four wheel drive sometime and the hill next to the driveway ain’t that steep,” Brock said, looking ready to be out of there. They were already in the foyer.

“Okay, we’re going. Bye, Jane! See you at work tomorrow,” Darcy said, hanging up. At least Jane was happy, she thought. 

“If she’s still alive,” Brock cracked, opening the front door and holding Darcy with his other hand.

“Shh,” Darcy said, irrationally afraid the house or Jane would hear them. They practically fled the house; she looked back once as they bumped along, turning around the SUV. “Jane turned the lights on,” she said. Brock glanced back.

“Why does that make it worse?” he said, locking the car doors. Darcy burst out laughing. “What?” he said. “Safety.”

“If I hadn’t met you, I’d be rooming with that stuffed bear,” Darcy said, grinning at him as they went around Jane’s car. 

“Hold on,” he said, giving the SUV a little gas to get them back on the drive. The gravel skittered under their tires. “Our whole relationship is a hostage extraction,” he said, grinning at her. 

“We still have to get past that creepy gate,” she reminded him.

“Fuck.”

-The End-  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and kudos on this one. It was a really fun story to write! Seems appropriate that we're ending with Chapter 13. Thanks again to jaili for prompting this one.


End file.
